Adamantine
by Miss Mungoe
Summary: The dark clings to his veins like smoke, cracking like glass under her touch, scorching like the Sun. He has already broken her once. – Gajeel/Levy, Grand Magic Games AU.
1. iron heart, will of steel

AN: Set during the days of the Daimatou Enbu, but focusing on the interludes in-between the fights and the budding relationship between a certain iron dragonslayer and his bookworm. It's going to get a little dark, so keep that in mind, because with their history, making a relationship work isn't going to be smooth sailing.

Warning: there are spoilers for the whole of the Grand Magic Tournament-arc, and it's rated 'M' for Gajeel's potty mouth and future violence. ****There will be no explicit sexual content, only suggestions****.

Disclaimer: Fairy Tail and its characters belong to Hiro Mashima; I own absolutely nothing. The cover image is by the lovely Rae; if you want some wonderful fanart to feast your eyes on, check out her tumblr, where she goes by _raedoodles._

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><p><strong>Adamantine<strong>

by Miss Mungoe

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><p><strong>part I.<strong>

He'd always considered himself blessed with unwavering confidence.

Before Metalicana he'd survived on the streets for years with little but his wit and a good dose of luck – being a coward in such a setting would only have gotten him killed faster, so he'd toughened up, dusted himself off and begun to make people fear _him_ instead. Being later raised by a dragon with questionable teaching methods and a skewed notion of morality hadn't left any room for being afraid either, so by the time he'd reached his first decade he'd discarded the feeling completely. What could possibly hurt him under the protection of an ancient magical beast the size of a small mountain, anyway? Other than the beast itself, of course, but his old man had never given him reason to even consider the thought. And when his father had left him a few years later, he'd been more than capable of taking care of himself, and it hadn't taken him long to find his way back into the life of a semi-normal human being. Sure, his manners had been somewhat rough and his appearance off-putting at best, but he'd always managed. He'd been strong for his age, and strength had always been sought after in the big cities. It hadn't been long before he'd found a guild to join.

He'd become even stronger after that, and his reputation had grown amongst the other guilds – dark and legitimate alike. He'd been ruthless, and his name had been whispered with fear and awe by the populace and by his fellow guildmates, and he'd thrived in the glory of ultimate superiority. Nothing could have even _hoped_ to touch him back then.

And then the war with Fairy Tail had happened, and his very existence had been flipped straight on its head. He'd been surprised – to say he'd expected the sheer power that thrived in what turned out to be a freakishly strong guild would be a load of bullshit. He'd expected them to lose, not go on a wild rampage and destroy his entire guild in the process. And their tiny-as-all-hell guildmaster had even made his own boss look like a complete _fool to boot._

But he hadn't been afraid, not even during his fight with Salamander. He'd been intrigued – curious, and maybe just a tiny bit jealous, because the idiot fire dragon had obviously no idea how damn _lucky_ he was, with guildmates who genuinely respected him for more than just his strength and magical prowess. He'd laughed at that respect, though – undermined it. Tarnished it.

He hadn't been shocked when Makarov had hunted him down in the aftermath of the battle. He'd expected it, to some extent.

He had _not_ expected the little man to offer a smile and a place in his guild – the guild Gajeel had all but destroyed. The family he had tried to tear apart and the children he had deliberately hurt, whose bonds of friendship and all that gushy crap he had viciously trampled on.

For the first time since Metalicana had found him, he'd been offered a home.

And damn it, sometimes he was just too curious for his own good. And even as the guildmaster had made it crystal clear that he was far from forgiven for his actions, and Gajeel had felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise and his skin prickle with the sheer intensity of the little mage's magical power, he hadn't been afraid. Damn curious, and maybe a little bit happy, but not afraid. He didn't _know _fear – couldn't remember a point in his life where he had; not at the hands of dangerous opponents, or on the streets as a child where every day had been a fight for survival. Not even in the lair of a dragon had he ever been afraid, and as far as he'd been concerned, joining a guild like Fairy Tail would make little difference. He knew by more than experience that there were mages there that could make scrap-metal of his ass, but the knowledge had only made him more excited to join.

But no, he hadn't known fear. Not yet, anyhow.

It hadn't come as a revelation, either, when it finally hit him. Hell, he hadn't even realized what it was when it happened. There hadn't been any crumbling mountains or roaring heavens to commemorate the event – all he'd felt had been a surge at the bottom of his stomach as a blinding light had enveloped them, and all he could remember thinking had been _why the hell is she not at the guild?! _The feeling hadn't left him until the dust had cleared around them in the crumbling cathedral, and he hadn't even reacted to the relief washing through him at the sight of her, uninjured despite the obvious attempt at blasting them all into oblivion.

Oh, no. The realization had sunk in later, much later, covered from head to toe in bandages and limping around with a goddamn crutch for support.

He'd drunk that night. A lot. More than he should have, surely, in his condition, but the messed up_...feeling _had been bloody fucking _imprinted _in his mind, and he hadn't known if it was that or the booze that had finally made him throw up all over his bathroom floor.

Probably both. Maybe.

The next time it happened he'd ended up in a twisted excuse of their world with a king that was more than one mage short of a guild, and the cat he'd _just found _had also just been shot down from the sky by a version of Titania that was even scarier than the one he'd come to know, but he'd found the feeling justified at the time, because damn it, he'd just found that cat, and there was no way in hell he was going to settle for another!

But he'd gotten his cat in the end, and a best friend and a partner, all wrapped up in a bundle of fur that could sit on his shoulders and who could give Salamander's cat a run for his money in a good race. Lily was the first being Gajeel was comfortable calling friend, and in the weeks following the incident in Edolas the loneliness he hadn't realized had been present in his life before Lily hadn't seemed so all-consuming. And for the first time since Metalicana he'd felt at home, with his cat and with his guild, although that acceptance had been reluctant at best, and that after a few pints and with only Lily present to hear. The only one _allowed _to hear, because damn it, admitting to feeling shit was as good as publicly declaring himself a pansy. Or pissing himself. Or both. Either way, it was a level of embarrassing Gajeel made an active point to ignore.

The S-class exams presented him with an opportunity he hadn't known he'd been waiting for, but after her name had been called there wasn't much else on his mind for the rest of the day. She was smart as hell. Probably the smartest person Gajeel had ever met, but if rumours were anything to go by, the tests she would have to go through wouldn't be rune puzzles and word-traps. She'd have to fight, and the thought had...unsettled him.

It would take him a good long time to recognize the feeling for what it was.

He'd promised to make her big – to watch her back and help make her an S-class mage. Her accessories hadn't been able to believe their ears at the time, but he'd ignored their protests. Her curiosity had been palpable, and her barely restrained intrigue had had him grinning like an idiot. She'd accepted, too. In a way, he'd been surprised, but in a way, he also hadn't. Lily had said nothing, but there'd been a seemingly permanent smirk on his face the entire week preceding the exams. Gajeel had cheerfully ignored him.

Everything had gone surprisingly smooth, though, all things considered. From the moment they'd stepped onto the island, it'd been like a walk in the park. In fact, it'd been quite literally like _a walk in a park_. A big-ass park without a single noteworthy opponent in sight. He'd been disappointed as hell at first, but she'd been happy, and he remembered not being able to be quite as irritated as he'd felt he rightfully should have been. Then she'd run away from him, and for all his enhanced sense of smell it had been ridiculously hard tracking her down in the overgrown bush they'd been walking through.

And then her screams had pierced the air, and damn him if it hadn't been the worst sound he'd ever heard.

He couldn't remember which direction he'd taken off, could only remember the screams and then he was blocking the blade headed for her head, and he'd been so _angry_ he could have turned the entire forest to dust. And he didn't even know who he'd been most angry with at the time – the shitheads who'd tried to kill her or the girl herself for running off on him. Probably a bit of both, and maybe a little bit at himself for letting her out of his sight in the first place.

The feeling had stuck with him as they'd battled the intruders; anger and nausea had warred for control, and for the first time in his life he hadn't been able to focus properly on his opponents, because she'd been struggling to keep up, and he'd known a misstep could've gotten her _killed__,_ and damn it, he hadn't even been able to use his breath attack for fear of having her caught up in it as well.

_Fear._The words had seeped into his mind slowly, and the realization had hit him like a well-aimed kick to the gut. He remembered not being able to breathe, because had he just–?

His suspicions had been confirmed when the shitheads revealed their plan, and suddenly all he could remember thinking of were ways to get Levy the hell away from the battlefield – or off the whole damn _island_ if that was possible – because there was no way they could have fought off an entire dark guild with their limited numbers.

And he'd been afraid. For the first time in his life, he'd accepted the feeling for what it was – fear. Cold, hard _fear_ seeping into his bones and his marrow like a persistent frost; a vice around the heart he'd been told he didn't have. But he hadn't cared that he acted like a damn pussy – he'd needed her to get the hell away.

He'd told her this with all the tact and gentlemanliness he could manage, meaning he'd all but roared at her to make a run for it, to get the word out to the others, because whatever shit they'd stumbled across it was too big for the two of them.

The unspoken message had been clear. _Find cover. Hide._

_Be fucking _**_safe._**

She'd hesitated. The vice had tightened, and he remembered being about to go on a bloody rampage and physically _throw_ her across the island if she didn't get a move on.

But she'd made a run for it in the end, and for a split second he'd been able to breathe again. He'd blocked the attack headed her way with all the strength he could gather. It'd hurt like _hell__, but the sound of her receding footsteps had driven the pain from his system, and settled his raging senses enough for him to think clearly._

_"Gajeel!"_

_"What are you doing? GO!"_

He hadn't missed the plea for him to stay alive, and for a split second he'd felt all but _invincible_ for reasons he couldn't even hope to name. It had been like a challenge, and as he'd eaten the iron she'd left for him, the power surging through his system had been quite unlike anything he could remember feeling, but there'd been something strangely familiar about it. For some reason, he'd thought of Salamander during the battle with Phantom, but he'd discarded the idea as he'd thrown himself back into the fight. The _whys_ hadn't been important_,_ so long as he could beat his opponents to bloody pulps.

He can't remember much after that.

What he can remember is the feeling of victory. He remembered his name being called and the scent of her, and the sensation of being dragged along the ground. The next thing he knew he'd been covered in bandages with Lily beside him, and despite sporting a few bruises and bandages herself, Levy was otherwise unharmed. And he hadn't cared that the biggest battle was still ahead of them, because the others had been there alongside them, and even though it had rankled his pride to admit it, he'd known he couldn't hope to win this war alone.

She'd smiled at him then, and it'd been the same confident smile she'd had during the battle against Laxus when she'd promised to break the rune barrier surrounding the guild. And Gajeel had only been able to grin like a complete fool in return, because damn it, there was a reason he'd wanted to be her partner in the first place. Lily had found it ten kinds of amusing, and had been promptly ignored, because despite his injuries Gajeel had felt like he could easily take on whatever the shitty guild decided to throw at them. That the worst by far was yet to come was a thought that had never even crossed his mind – it hadn't crossed any of their minds.

But it had come, and the fear had been colder, and harder and genuine and fucking _understandable_ this time, because the dragon engulfing the sky above them had been everything that his father was _not,_ and even as Salamander had screamed up at the sky with delight, Gajeel had only been able to stare in slowly dawning horror. And even as the master had roared at them to make a run for it, to get away and off the island, Gajeel had known. It was the end for them.

The sheer destruction that had followed had been unbelievable, and the dragon hadn't even been taking them seriously. He'd tried to locate a head of blue hair in the chaos around him, but before he'd managed to find her she'd been beside him, Lily having grabbed onto the back of her dress when the first attack had shaken the earth. The confidence had gone from her face, replaced by panic and so much fear Gajeel had had trouble looking away. He'd felt sick to his stomach – _sick,_because he'd been running like a fucking _coward__,_ sick because there was no way he could possibly get Lily and Levy off the island before the dragon destroyed it. But the feeling hadn't lasted long.

Because they were Fairy Tail, and _cowardice_ wasn't a notion they were familiar with.

And so a split second later he wasn't running away; a split second, and suddenly Salamander was forcibly clawing his way up the dragon's massive form, and the rest of the guild was charging towards their master, screaming bloody murder at the top of their lungs. If this was the end, they were going down fighting, kicking and screaming with all the raw defiance of true Fairy Tail mages. And he remembered having found it thrilling, because it'd been so _fucking typical_ of the reckless faeries, but he'd roared his approval as he'd charged ahead along with them. And for all his reclusive behaviour even he couldn't have denied at that moment that he was just as mad as the rest of them.

The fear had been gone completely in a few moments, replaced with the unwavering resolve Fairy Tail was so famous for, and as his much larger hand had engulfed Levy's small one, he remembered feeling a twinge of hope as they'd prepared their defences against what would be the dragon's final attack. It'd been ridiculous, really, because there'd been no way in hell they could possibly survive.

But they were Fairy Tail, and so they did.

When the dust had finally settled – and seven years had seemingly passed them by unnoticed, for some fucked up reason beyond his level of comprehension or desire to understand – he'd been left with a shitload of questions to which there were no answers. He'd been thrown for a complete, nauseating loop, and no amount of alcohol or bar brawls had been able to settle his mind and skittering nerves.

And he'd had _nightmares._

Lily was the only one who knew. Lily was the only one _allowed_ to know. Because Gajeel Redfox does _not_ have nightmares.

But he did. He would wake in the night. He wouldn't scream – wouldn't jolt out of bed in a frenzy. In fact, he wouldn't move at all. Because every time it happened it took _time_ for him to wake. It was something like wading through knee-deep mud while simultaneously moving towards the wind, and when he would finally manage to open his eyes he always felt as though he'd run a fucking _marathon._ The only sign of a disturbed sleep pattern was his heart, which would be trying to forcibly push its way past his ribs.

Being a light sleeper, Lily always woke with him, but the Exceed never said anything. And Gajeel was glad, because he wouldn't know how to explain it, anyways.

He dreamt of crucifixions. Of one specific crucifixion, in fact, but it wasn't the one from his memories. This was _worse._ In his memories, she didn't scream – she was defiant to the very last. In the dreams it was all he could hear, the sound piercing the air and curdling his blood, and ringing in his ears long after waking. The sight almost made his past actions look ridiculous and half-hearted_,_ because in his dreams she wasn't held up by metal cuffs; in his dreams _metal spikes were driven through her small hands_, and the mark on her stomach wasn't painted, _it was_ _carved into her flesh_.

And ravens. There were always ravens.

It would take him longer than what he'd consider comfortable to wake from these dreams. The act itself was exhausting, but he wouldn't admit to it to save his life. He wasn't afraid, damn it all to the deepest pits of hell. Raven Tail didn't frighten him, and Ivan Dreyar least of all.

But the fact of the matter was that he _was_ afraid. Because Ivan was a sick, manipulative bastard who _knew_ things about Gajeel that could and probably _would_ be his undoing. He didn't know whether the man was yet aware of his true allegiance to Fairy Tail and to the father he hated with such a passion. Seven years was a long time to disappear, and like with Master Makarov he hadn't the faintest idea what truly went on in the dark mage's head. The tournament was a welcome distraction despite their crushing defeats so far. It served to take his mind off all the shit that had somehow accumulated there as of late, but there came an end to every day, and when they'd returned to their rooms, he could hardly think of anything else.

His cat could take care of himself pretty well. Lily was hella strong, and almost always within Gajeel's line of sight. Levy on the other hand, was not, and Gajeel would bet his life on the fact that Ivan was more than aware of this.

And the thought scared the ever-living shit out of him.

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><p>He didn't know how he'd ended up outside her window, but there he was, and he honestly had no idea what to do with himself. He wasn't Salamander – he didn't make an active point of barging into people's private rooms without permission like a creep.<p>

Although to be fair, sitting on the ledge outside, perched like a gargoyle and looking very much like a stalker probably didn't paint a better picture.

"Sulking?"

"Shaddup."

Pantherlily raised a brow. "Going to tell me what's eating you soon?"

Gajeel grumbled something partly incoherent, and Lily snorted. The man was so obtuse sometimes, it bordered on the ridiculous. "Why don't you just talk to her?" he pressed. "You've been avoiding her since the exams. I mean, I get why you didn't take her along to train, but you were friendlier than _this_ even before Tenrou."

When the dragonslayer pointedly refused to look at him, Lily sighed. "Have you considered the fact that talking to her might make things better? What you're doing now is no better than what that water mage does all the time," he added, hoping the comment would hit its intended mark.

"...did you just compare me to _Juvia, _cat?"

Which it did, not unexpectedly. Gajeel was notorious for his dislike of being compared to just about anything. "Well you are lurking outside her window, brooding. And you've been staring at her all week. People are starting to take notice."

"Tch. Let them talk. I've my reasons."

Lily snorted. "And a whole lot of misconceptions, too, if I know you, and I _do_, you should know. You've probably convinced yourself staying away will keep her safe or some other romantic notion you wouldn't admit to save your life."

"_Rom_- the fuck, Lily?"

"I'm right, though, aren't I?"

"Shaddup!" Gajeel muttered, turning his gaze away and hunching his shoulders.

Lily rubbed his paw against his brow. "You're an idiot, you know that?" Gajeel didn't answer. Lily's brows furrowed as a thought occurred to him. "Is she in danger, Gajeel?" Still getting no reply, the Exceed settled down on the sill next to the dragonslayer, concern now clear on his face. "Gajeel?" he pressed.

"I don't know! I...damn it," he exhaled sharply. "I don't fucking know."

Pantherlily frowned. As unapproachable as his friend usually was, there was something in his tone that unsettled him. "What happened to Wendy...you think maybe...?"

Gajeel's brows furrowed sharply at the reminder, but he said nothing. Lily watched him closely, the silence between them broken only by the drunken laughter of the other guild-members in the streets below. "You're worried," he said at length.

"I ain't no such thing."

"You are, and horrible at hiding it, I might add. Although subtlety never really was your strong suit."

Gajeel glared at his partner. "You picking a fight, Lily?"

The Exceed rolled his eyes. "Trying to avoid the subject?"

"..."

"Nice comeback."

"Damn it, cat!"

Crossing his arms over his tiny chest, Lily shot his companion a serious look. "I still think you should talk to her. She might not understand the complexity that you've got going on in that hard-as-steel skull of yours and the reasoning you've created for yourself, but she's not stupid, Gajeel, she can tell that you're avoiding her."

"Idiot. 'Course she ain't stupid – she's fucking _brilliant.__"_

Lily grinned. "Oh, you've got it _bad_, don't you?"

"_Shaddup_!"

Lily jumped out of the reach of the angry dragon, still chuckling. "Alright, alright – I'll drop it." The dragonslayer grumbled something, before recrossing his arms and hunkering back into a posture that reminded Lily of a cat having had its fur ruffled. Jumping down from the ledge, the Exceed flexed his wings before circling around to hover before his partner.

"If you want my advice–"

"I don't. "

"If you want my _advice_, which you _do, I__ think you should talk to her_." Each word was punctuated, as though it would make the message clearer, although considering who he was talking to, Lily doubted it made any difference. He crossed his arms, his expression losing some of its good humour. "I like Levy, you know – she's amazing just for putting up with your crap, which she does _willingly__,_ unless you've forgotten. And I don't know what's going on in your head at the moment, and you don't have to tell me anything, but if she's in danger you'd have a much easier time keeping an eye on her if you'd actually let her near you."

Gajeel didn't answer, but shifted his gaze from his partner to the window to their right. It was dark inside – she'd gone to sleep some time ago, he knew. Letting out a sigh, the dragonslayer's expression slackened from it's patent glare to a strangely resigned look.

"Damn it," he muttered.

Lily smirked. "I'll go back downstairs – don't brood yourself into a stupor."

"I don't fucking _brood_!" But Lily was already gone.

Gajeel glared at the building opposite, before shifting his gaze to the window and the darkened room within. He was about to rise and follow his partner when movement from inside caught his attention, and he stiffened as the window suddenly and without warning flew open, revealing a pyjama-clad script-mage armed with a tome half her size and looking very much like the impudent girl who'd whacked him with her handbag on Tenrou.

And it looked like he was about to receive the same treatment with the book in her hands if he didn't explain himself.

She stopped when she realized who it was standing outside her window, however, and lowered the tome, the expression on her face hovering somewhere between confusion and relief.

"_Gajeel?"_

Gajeel cleared his throat. "Yo."

The silence of the night only helped punctuate the already awkward moment. Gajeel didn't avert his eyes, however, and – apparently just _now_ becoming aware of what she was wearing (_or not wearing,_ his mind added uselessly) – Levy's cheeks flared with colour as she tried to cover herself with the book in her hands. Gajeel almost failed to hide his grin at the sight of her, flustered as she was.

"W-what are you doing here?" The remark couldn't have sounded less casual, in his opinion, and the sight of her blustering shyness made it hard to hide his smile, and so he did. And in his usual, razor-sharp, teeth gleaming in the moonlight, manic fashion.

Which, in retrospect, probably wasn't the best idea, as she looked like she wanted nothing more than slam the window in his face and make a run for her covers. It wasn't the fear she'd had for him when he'd first joined the guild, however. He'd recognize that smell in a heartbeat – it had bothered him more than he'd ever admit. No, she was just fidgety, overcome by some foreign shyness that hadn't been present during the exams, and the fact only made his grin widen. And, of course, he couldn't resist teasing her.

"Nervous, shortstuff?"

That the nickname made her cheeks colour even further wasn't lost on him, nor was the way her eyes averted themselves to a point somewhere in the distance. He'd bet his best set of bolts she was itching to wring her hands together in that nervous habit of hers – which, if she hadn't been lugging around that ridiculously _enormous_ book _(how was she even able to lift the damn thing?) _– she probably would have done.

"N-no!" she was quick to amend, straightening to her full, unimpressive height. "Just...curious. You don't usually come around...at night...or, well, ever." She shrugged, and suddenly wouldn't meet his eyes. Gajeel prided himself in his nonchalance just then – anyone else would have given something away. He did, in fact, come around quite often. And mostly at night, actually. She just hadn't become aware of it until now.

Of course, he didn't say this. Instead he said something more like himself and not some crazy stalker.

"Aww. D'ya miss me, bookworm?"

He'd expected her to splutter something incoherent and blush even more furiously at the suggestion, but instead she did something that completely threw him off. "Yeah. I have, actually."

And gone was the nervous shifting of her expressive eyes, although they were still focused firmly on his feet, and there was an almost sombre smile on her face that, if possible, made him feel like an even bigger dick than he already did.

And then she blushed, shaking her head and raising her eyes. "You've been busy, yeah?" she asked, tilting her head to regard him innocently with the eyes that had haunted his dreams for the past few months, except they weren't filled with tears and pain and _fear_ this time, and there were no ravens darkening the sky above their heads, and she wasn't _screaming_ as she was forcibly nailed to–

"Gajeel?"

Blinking, he withdrew from his mind, shifting his gaze to meet her curious one. She looked concerned. "Are you alright?"

He almost wanted to laugh. She was concerned for _him_. Irony had a way of rearing its ugly-assed head at the most inappropriate moments. But despite the fact that he wasn't, in fact, alright, he only shook his head, a sardonic smile on his lips. "Yeah." _Fucking peachy._

She frowned then, her brows pulling together into the same look she usually wore while working on a particularly puzzling rune or translation. He almost grinned at the comparison. Hell, if anyone could figure him out, it would be her. She certainly had the stubbornness for it.

The question was whether or not he'd allow her to try.

"I would ask if you want to talk about it, but you'd just laugh at me for even suggesting it, so I won't," she announced then, a small smile on her lips that made him wonder if she had some kind of personal inside-joke on the matter. He was about to open his mouth when she beat him to it. "But if you _don't_ want to talk about it–I mean, I'm here if you want me. No! I mean–" she cut off and blushed again, stuttering slightly at her own mistake. Gajeel resisted the urge to snicker. It wasn't helping matters that his mind was somewhere in the gutter at this point, either.

Pushing those thoughts away, he reached out, placing a large hand on the crown of her head and letting his fingers tangle in her hair before ruffling it. The familiarity and foreign gentleness of the action caught him off guard. Anyone else would have called it affectionate, but the word itself made him want to cringe.

"Don't get your panties in a twist, shortstack. I ain't a damn lecher." She was about to open her mouth – probably to ask just what he had been doing outside her room in the first place – when he cut her off. "'Sides, yer too innocent fer your own good, anyways." He grinned.

Levy blushed and averted her gaze to her feet again, clutching the monstrous book against her chest. If he hadn't known better he'd have thought she looked...dejected, or something of the like.

The silence stretched on without either of them saying anything, and he felt himself growing restless. "So," he began lamely, just to break the awkward silence or stop himself from...he didn't even know _what_ at this point. Something.

She looked up at him, eyes large and expectant, and he inhaled sharply. He was getting in way over his head, no doubt about that. "So?" she prompted. And there was that shiver of _expectation_ again. Gajeel almost bristled at the naked hope in her voice, scouring his mind for a witty comeback–

"So you're good?"

–and almost bashed his head against the wall. _The actual fuck was __that__ supposed to be?_

She blinked, before a small smile curved along her mouth, making her eyes crinkle slightly at the corners. He wondered idly if he'd said something wrong. "Yeah, I'm good."

He nodded, still feeling awkward. "Good."

Noticing he still had his hand on her head, he quickly snatched it back – a bit too quickly, perhaps, as he doubted the action looked anything _but_ casual – and resisted the urge to scratch the back of his neck in the process. What in the seven circles of hell was the matter with him? "Well, uh. I'll be off. Go to sleep, shrimp."

"Um–"

Inclining his head, he watched as she shuffled her feet, brows drawn together again as though she was contemplating something. Then she placed down her book, climbed out onto the ledge in one smooth motion and took three strides forward to stand on her tiptoes and place a solid kiss on his cheek.

Or she would have, if she'd _leaped_ upwards, perhaps. Even on the tips of her toes, with his full height she only managed to land a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

But misplaced or not, it didn't fail to render him into a spluttering idiot, and he barely caught himself from yelling out in embarrassed surprise. She grinned up at him, hands now behind her back as she tilted her head to the side.

"I'm glad it was you and not a lecher," she said then, laughter in her voice and humour in her eyes. Gajeel could only shake his head in wonder.

"I'd like to think I'd be the worse choice, but I'll let it slide this time," he warned, ignoring how damn half-hearted it sounded. Reaching out as though to ruffle her hair again, he smirked as he caught her by surprise with a sharp poke to her forehead. She yelped, hands flying up to the source of the unexpected pain.

"Gajeel!" She glared up at him, and he laughed at the sight. She possessed about the same level of intimidation as an angry lemming.

He leaned in closer to her face then, his grin stretching wide and wicked at the sight of the heat spreading across the skin of her cheeks. Her eyes were wide as she stared up at him, and could hear her heart as it hammered a steady rhythm against her ribcage–

"Get a better weapon next time."

Then he pulled back, grinning all the way, before turning around to leap down from the ledge.

"Wait!"

Halting in his tracks, he looked back over his shoulder. She'd straightened up, and despite her flushed cheeks, had that confident look on her face again – as though having just resolved to do something. His curiosity piqued against his better judgement.

"What?"

She took a deep breath. "Does...does this mean you're not ignoring me anymore?" And for the first time since finding him at her window, she looked him straight in the eyes. He blinked.

Then he grinned.

"Aa."

She nodded, inhaling sharply. "Good."

He smirked. "Go to sleep, Levy."

She smiled, not a mere quirk of her lips but a wide grin he'd never seen her direct at anything but the Magnolia public library, and he stored the sight away in his mind, hoarded it for another night when the caw of ravens was a persistent sound in his ears. "Goodnight, Gajeel."

Jumping down from the ledge, the iron dragonslayer cut a path down the cobbled street, ignoring the boisterous sounds from the taverns at each side. Lily was probably off enjoying the merriment, and on any other night he might have welcomed a good pint and a brawl, as it'd keep him from going to bed.

But not tonight – tonight he was going to sleep, and if he dreamt, he would remember the smile she'd given him of all people – a smile he found himself feeling strangely possessive of. She trusted him. Hell if he knew why, but she did.

He shook his head, muttering under his breath as Lily's words nagged at the back of his mind. _"Oh, you've got it _**_bad_**_, don't you?"_

He sighed, "You have no idea how bad, cat."

"No fucking idea."

* * *

><p>AN: I'm a shameless fan of character development and especially this particular guy's, hence the rather long exploratory prologue that I hope hasn't turned you off completely. The rest of the story will delve some more into his mind, although not in such a drawn-out manner. If you've got the time, please drop a word or two – I really appreciate feedback and words of encouragement!<p> 


	2. bright mind, but a fool at heart

AN: A little insight into Levy's mind before her part in the story kicks off – I swear I'm done with lengthy recaps after this chapter, but I felt it prudent to show where she's at with regards to Gajeel, so bear with me.

Disclaimer: Fairy Tail and its characters belong to Hiro Mashima; I own absolutely nothing. Cover image by Rae.

* * *

><p><strong>part II.<strong>

Levy McGarden wasn't unintelligent. In fact, she was quite smart. One of the smartest, perhaps, in all of Fairy Tail. Or at least this was what she tried to convince herself, to make up for her lack of physical prowess, of course. She wasn't Erza – she couldn't fell her enemies with the mere crook of a finger, or Mirajane, who only needed to _look_ at her opponents to make them run away screaming. She was Levy – she read books.

But she had been selected as an s-class candidate for a reason, and a damn good reason, too – as she'd said, she wasn't unintelligent. But despite her smarts and bookishness, and all her boundless knowledge of the world and its languages and cultures, Levy sometimes wished she wasn't so bloody _stupid. _Because she was, really. Normally, she'd consider herself clever enough to notice traps in advance and thus avoid them – she didn't rush headlong into things without a care for her own safety; she was more patient than that. She would wait and observe, and then proceed carefully. That was just who she was, but no matter how slowly she felt she had been going, or how well she'd thought she'd assessed the situation, she hadn't seen this coming. Not by a _long_ shot.

She'd managed, all common sense and self-perseverance be damned, to fall head over elbows and knees in love with the one person with whom she'd never thought she could feel anything but nervous acceptance and half-hearted companionship. Which was her biggest mistake, really. She _hadn't_ considered it, and thus hadn't even had an inkling before it'd hit her. Smack in the face, knee-in-the-solar-plexus, figurative ton-of-bricks and the like.

She was an _idiot._

Of all the people to fall for. Of all the possible candidates for her heart and affection, not only in Fairy Tail but in all of _Fiore_, she had to go and fall for Gajeel Redfox. Gajeel Redfox, who had beaten Jet and Droy to within an inch of their lives in front of her eyes just because he'd known that would hurt her the most, who'd nailed her to a tree to publicly _humiliate_ her for all of Magnolia to see, who'd been the constant cause of her nightmares for _months_ after the skirmish with Phantom Lord–

But, it was also Gajeel Redfox who'd saved her life on multiple occasions, who'd protected her, trained her, promised to make her _big._He'd been a lifeline when she'd thought she would perish at Tenrou, his large, warm hand covering her shaking one, holding her up as all she could think was _this is the end, this is the end, the end, the end– _

He'd been the first face she'd sought once the dust had cleared, the first person she'd thought of training with when the guild had split up to prepare for the tournament. There was hardly a moment he wasn't dominating her thoughts, to the point where she could hardly focus on her books.

She was an idiot. She was an idiot, and she was shamelessly in love with a man who was such a far cry from what anyone would guess she'd go for, it wasn't just bordering on the ridiculous – it had crossed into ridiculous and past it, until it was just a speck on the horizon and well on its way into absolutely ludicrous.

But she loved him, excessive piercings and potty mouth notwithstanding. And perhaps he wasn't such a far cry from what she'd go for in a man. Despite what everyone loved to believe, Levy was a whole lot more morbid than she let on; she loved horror novels with a passion that made even Lucy wary, and thrived on grotesque descriptions and imagery her sunny disposition gave no inclination of resided within her mind. And she loved fairy tales, the traditional ones with the charming princes rescuing damsels in distress. And so maybe it wasn't so strange she'd fallen for the tall, dark and handsome dragonslayer who was more intelligent that he let on, and who harboured an, albeit somewhat twisted, sense of justice anyone would find admirable. And for all his devil-may-care demeanour and rough manners, Gajeel was fiercely protective of those he kept close – a trait that had earned him her interest early on, especially after Lily had come into the picture. And he was handsome – had she mentioned that? And perhaps she _did_ like them a little rugged. And tall, and well-built and–

–she was an idiot. A hopeless, infatuated-beyond-measure honest to goodness _idiot_.

And she loved him – she had no trouble accepting it. Oh, no, accepting it was the _easy_ part. It was everything else that was so dastardly difficult. To start with, she was absolutely terrible at hiding her feelings. And it certainly didn't help now that Lucy had caught on, and was sending her sly looks whenever she could.

Then was the case of the man himself, who probably didn't even see her as anything but a nuisance. Or an armrest. Sometimes, she wasn't sure which was the predominant one. Regardless, he'd left her when he'd gone to train with Lily, only further proving his lack of interest in keeping her around when there was no ulterior motive to be had, like luring his way into the exams.

And what was even worse, how could she ever hope to stand a chance with such a man, if she'd even had one to begin with! She was more than likely the exact opposite of what someone like Gajeel would find attractive in a partner, which she guessed was something along the lines of a strong, fierce woman like Erza, who could match him blow-for-blow in a fight. Levy wouldn't last two seconds in a serious brawl with Gajeel – he'd already proven that. And she was book-smart_, __and _what kind of guy wanted a girl whose greatest pleasure in life came from the pages of dusty old tomes?

Well, perhaps Jet or Droy, but she hadn't ventured down that particular path yet and wouldn't do so now just because she felt she had no chance with the man she really wanted. She wasn't like that – she might be a little desperate, but she wouldn't risk hurting her boys because of it. If she could have chosen to place her affections with whomever she liked she might have put them with Jet, who was kind and sweet and attentive, but the whims of her heart weren't to be controlled. Although one would think, with the mountains of obstacles before her, her infatuation would eventually release the vice it kept her heart in. She had no chance – none _whatsoever_ as far as she was concerned, so why did her heart persist in doing that erratic _jump_ it did whenever he walked into the room?

Perhaps she was a masochist. Maybe that was it. Maybe she secretly liked the pain of being in love with someone she couldn't hope to have, someone who had hurt her in the past. Someone who, _clearly_, wouldn't be the best choice in a prospective partner, their history and their wildly contradicting personalities taken into consideration.

Of course, _maybes_ were all good but they amounted to nothing, and they certainly didn't make her situation any better.

She had tried, on occasion, telling him about her feelings, in the vain hope that perhaps a public humiliation or a harsh rejection or _both, _would make her forget about her feelings and move on. It had been a good idea – a brilliant one, actually. The only problem was that she never could make herself _do_ anything about it. Every time she'd tried, she'd stumble across the words with which she was usually so eloquent, and say something _really_ smart, like 'nghr' or some other inarticulate garble.

_Really._ Sometimes she wondered if her title of 'smartest mage in Fairy Tail' wasn't a bit of an exaggeration. It seemed that when faced with even the most mundane of problems, she was rendered into a blushing, stuttering, gob-smacked idiot. Even her books couldn't help her, and gods knew she'd perused the library more than once in search of help.

The fact remained that Levy McGarden was very good solving theoretical problems – runes, puzzles and traps all came apart in her hands at the flourish of a feathered pen, but throw a good old-fashioned heartache her way, and she couldn't even find her shoes.

He'd laugh. She knew he would, which was why she was certain of his being oblivious to the ruin he'd made of her heart and sanity. If he'd even _suspected_ she was in love with him, he'd have laughed so hard he'd have driven himself into cardiac arrest, she was sure. Anyone would, really – the mere insinuation was absurd. He probably hadn't even considered the thought of her as anything but a fellow mage, and, at one point, a partner.

Although, maybe he had? The thought was a dangerous one, but one she had entertained in the past on multiple occasions. Sometimes, like the time he'd disappeared with Lily to train, she'd wondered if perhaps he'd left her because he'd caught on and decided to nip whatever it was in the figurative bud. And to add to that line of thought, ever since the start of the tournament, he'd been strangely distant. Except...

Except for the night he'd showed up at her window. Although, she wasn't entirely certain he'd wanted to be found, but he'd been there for some reason or another, and as she was the only one staying in that particular room, Levy had found it more than a little odd that he'd been sitting _there_ of all places. And they'd talked. Well, sort of – she'd stuttered a bit and he'd been acting...strange, but he'd ruffled her hair they way he'd acquired a habit of doing – an action she was a little too fond of to be able admit it without blushing. All in all, it had been oddly companionable. And nice, and...and she hadn't been able to go to sleep afterwards, she'd been so utterly flustered by his departing grin.

He was a terribly, horribly, infuriatingly confusing man. Infinitely more complex than she'd originally thought, so perhaps the idea that he wasn't completely averse to the idea of...something other than friendship, wasn't all that far-fetched.

Except it probably was.

…

She was an idiot.

* * *

><p>"Whoa! Levy, look at you!"<p>

Fighting to keep her cheeks from colouring, Levy tried her best to ignore her best friend as she circled her with all the subtlety of a carrion bird. Lucy's ever-growing grin was starting to resemble Mirajane's at her most calculating, and the script-mage felt like sinking into the floorboards in her growing mortification.

She should have just left it as it was, she knew she should have. Everyone would comment on it now, if Lucy had noticed. And after the comments there would be questions and speculations and before she knew it, everyone would put the pieces together_,_ and she–

"It looks really good on you, though, but how did you get it to _stick?_ Knowing your hair, it usually fights its way out of everything," Lucy remarked as she gently probed the elegant up-do atop the smaller mage's head. Levy swallowed, and tried not to meet her eyes.

"It took a little effort," she admitted, biting her lip because _effort_ was a downright laughable understatement. An all-out wrestling match was much more indicative of what had gone down, but she didn't want to let on how much work she'd actually put into it.

Lucy grinned behind her hand. "Making yourself pretty for someone special, hmm?" she hummed. "Well, now, who could this be for?"

Levy pursed her lips. "N-no one. I just...thought I'd try something different, is all." She lifted her chin, challenge in her eyes.

Lucy, however, wasn't deterred. "Oho? Seems awfully elaborate for just a casual change." She quirked a blonde brow, and Levy felt like screaming. But instead she merely shrugged, and tried to remain nonplussed.

"And is that a new headband, too?" Lucy asked, and Levy felt like running back to her room to hide under her covers. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the urge back down, opting instead of reaching up to readjust the new filigree circlet snugly tangled in her sky-kissed locks.

"Mm? This old thing?" she laughed. "Just something I had laying about."

"Mhm. And would you call it nickel or aluminium? It looks awfully soft, for metalwork."

…

"That's it! I'm taking it down!"

Pivoting on her heel, Levy made a beeline for the stairs leading to her room, but a soft hand clamping over her wrist stopped her before she'd made the first step, and she was spun back around to Lucy's apologetic smile. But the brown eyes regarding her hadn't lost their mischievous twinkle.

"I'm just teasing you, Lev. It looks great."

Levy crossed her arms over her chest. "It's not too much?"

"I think it's just the right amount." Lucy winked.

Levy grinned, and reached up to readjust the headband when Lucy nudged her fingers away. "You'll mess it up," she chided with a clever smile. "You're jittery today. Whatever for?"

Levy glared. "Stop that."

Her friend's laughter was infectious, and Levy found her ire hard to hold onto. "I know, I know – I'm sorry, Levy, but you're so easy to tease."

"Lu."

Lucy nudged her shoulder, still grinning. "Relax. Knowing him, he probably won't even notice."

"_You_ noticed," Levy deadpanned.

"I'm your best friend – of course _I'd_ notice." She winked. "But if you really want _him_ to notice..."

"No."

"Levy, I'm just offering some harmless advice. You can take it or leave it."

Levy grimaced. "I don't want to seduce him, I just..." she trailed off, gesturing with her hands although she wasn't entirely sure what she wanted to convey.

"Want to be noticed?"

She sighed, hands dropping to her sides. "I don't...know. I mean, I'm me, and he's–"

"A guy?"

"Yes!"

Lucy grinned. "You should worry less and relax more, then. If you really want to be noticed, you should just _tell him_." And before Levy could protest the sanity of that idea, Lucy held up her hand. "I know, I know. Easier said than done, but who knows? It's your best shot, I'd say."

Reaching up to probe at her hair, Levy frowned. "Maybe I should just take it down," she mused.

"It suits you, though."

"But it's–"

"Whoa, Levy!"

The familiar voice was accompanied by a hand on her shoulder, spinning her around to the grinning faces of her partners. "What's the occasion?" Jet asked. Levy could only gape, searching her mind for a plausible excuse but finding none. This was what she'd been afraid would happen, why oh _why_ hadn't she just taken it down?

"Uh, nothing special, I just wanted to try something new," she said, repeating the words she'd told Lucy.

And she thanked every deity under the sky that her boys weren't nearly as perceptive as her best friend, as Jet and Droy only grinned. "Always so creative, our Levy! And it looks so good on you!"

As her companions circled around her, openly admiring her new hairdo, Levy caught Lucy's grin, as well as her less-than-subtle gesture towards the doorway, before she slipped away and out of sight. And Levy didn't have to turn around to know who'd just walked in.

"Uh, guys–"

"Oh, it's Gajeel," Jet grumbled as the dragonslayer stalked towards them, Lily perched on his shoulder. Levy was about to open her mouth to greet them when Gajeel beat her to it.

"Hey, shortstack," he greeted, followed by a snort. "The hell happened to your hair?"

She felt her cheeks colour. _Damn it, not right away! _"Uh–"

"Hey, watch what you're saying, scrap-for-brains!"

Turning a lazy eye on the now fuming Jet, Gajeel raised a brow. "I can say whatever I damn well want, Speedy. It ain't my fault she looks like that."

Lily frowned, noticing Levy's wince at the blatant insult. "Gajeel–"

"You...!" Jet cut him off, but didn't seem to find a suitable comeback in his rising fury.

Gajeel only smirked. "Don't drop yer pants, Speedy – I'm just telling it like I see it. It's obviously yer fashion sense that's rubbed off on her. If anyone, you're to blame."

Jet all but threw himself at the dragonslayer, who casually sidestepped the attack. "That all you got?" he taunted.

"Shut up!"

In the ensuing brawl, which quickly attracted the attention and uproarious approval of the other members that had come downstairs for breakfast, Levy slipped away, embarrassed tears pressing at her eyes as she manoeuvred between the fighting guildmates to reach the front door of the inn. The day was grey and the sky overcast but with the tournament going on, the population of Crocas were in high spirits, and the street was bustling when she exited the lodge.

Picking up her pace, she hurried away from Honeybone, inwardly seething and fighting in vain to keep her tears from falling. Reaching up to tangle her fingers in the pretty up-do she'd spent the morning forcing her hair into, she let her anger get the better of her and _pulled_. Her fingers snagged in the tangles, and she tugged furtively at the headband keeping it together, wincing as it snagged at her scalp. Throwing the offending accessory to the ground, she continued walking, not caring that she was causing a scene or attracting curious stares. She was angry – angry and thoroughly embarrassed, and she felt like an _idiot__._

Well, she _was_ an idiot. She'd established that already.

"Levy!"

The shout of her name only made her want to walk faster, but Pantherlily was quick, and had caught up with her a second later. The Exceed released his wings and settled on the ground before her, looking up at her tear-stained face with concern.

Levy knew she probably looked like a ragged mess, her hair sticking out in several directions and her eyes red-rimmed and swollen. She'd never been a particularly pretty crier, and even less so with angry tears. Lily shifted his gaze to her head, before his apologetic gaze locked with hers. "I'd apologize, but it's probably too late."

She only shrugged, a wry smile tugging at her lips as she reached up to smooth down her bird's nest. "He was just being honest."

"He was being an _idiot_."

She shrugged again. "Then that makes two of us."

Lily raised a brow. "And why would that be?"

Her smile was sombre, and she laughed, shaking her head ruefully. "Because I've fallen for a jerk."

Lily didn't look the least bit surprised, and she sighed. "How long have you known?"

He shrugged. "Tenrou. Has it been longer?"

She lifted her shoulders feebly. "Can't remember. Maybe?"

Lily didn't say anything to that, only kept looking at her. Levy rubbed at her temples. New tears were welling up in her eyes despite herself. It wasn't Lily's fault she was bad at hiding her feelings, but the fact that more and more people seemed to catch on wasn't making matters any better.

"I'm sorry, Lily. I'm just–"

"Frustrated?"

"A bit, yeah."

The Exceed snorted. "Well, he's a frustrating guy."

She smiled. "Tell me about it."

He jumped up, flexing his wings before landing on her shoulders. Smoothing his paws over her hair, he ruffled it, making her laugh through her tears. "If it makes a difference, I thought you looked very nice."

Levy smiled up at him. "Thank you, Lily. That actually means a lot."

"And I apologize on behalf of the idiot."

She snorted. "Don't. He wouldn't have."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that if I were you."

Levy shook her head and opened her mouth to speak when a big, fat droplet of water hit her square on the nose. It was quickly followed by another, and another, until it was pelting down on the two of them. She held her hands over her face uselessly. "This is just my day, isn't it?" she muttered under her breath as she started to jog for the nearest shelter. Lily only grunted as he flattened his ears atop his head, squeezing his eyes shut against the rain hammering down on them.

Ducking under the cover of an overhanging balcony, Levy began the process of wringing out her now dripping hair. The other people on the street had run for cover as well, disregarding the few that had pulled out their umbrellas. She looked up at the Exceed still perched on her shoulder, whose gaze was trained on something further down the street. She smiled, wondering if he was listening for any sign of thunder.

"You can go inside, you know. I just want to stay here a bit, if that's okay."

The Exceed frowned, moving his gaze to look at her, drenched and dripping. "You'll catch one hell of a cold."

She shrugged. "I'm not in the actual tournament, so it won't really matter."

Lily was about to protest when he stopped, inclining his head to whatever it was he'd been looking at earlier. Levy craned her neck, although she couldn't see a thing through the heavy downpour. Then Lily smiled. "You know, you might just get your apology."

It was Levy's turn to frown. "What?"

Lily only shook his head, before spreading his wings and taking off through the rain. Levy was about to call after him, but was cut off by his voice shouting back at her. "I'm going back to Honeybone!"

She could only nod as the Exceed vanished from sight, a puzzled frown on her face. And then her eyes landed on the dark outline of a figure walking in her direction through the rain. There was no mistaking the arrogant set to those shoulders, but even if she'd doubted who it was, the sense of danger and general lack of approachability that seemed to trail in his wake was a dead giveaway.

Remembering the snide comment at the inn, and not feeling like enduring more jokes on her expense, the script mage turned on her heel and all but threw herself back into the downpour, stalking determinately in the opposite direction of the dragonslayer now at her back. She knew she had no hope of outrunning him even if she genuinely tried, but she could still make her message clear – her rigid shoulders more than enough indication that she wasn't feeling up for a chat.

"Oye, Levy!"

That didn't mean he would pay any attention to it, of course.

"Shortstack – the hell are ya walking away for?!"

She didn't turn around, didn't want to talk to him. She was drenched to the bone, her hair clinging to her brow and face, dripping and looking more and more like a soaked rag and nothing like the pretty up-do she'd managed earlier. Her eyes were no doubt still red and puffy and she was pretty sure she was going to throw something at him if he came any closer. And yet she didn't pick up her pace – didn't try to run. She only continued to walk resolutely away from him.

She heard his footsteps through the mud as he stalked up behind her, and was about to tell him off when something heavy was suddenly draped across her shoulders, effectively stopping her in her tracks as his voice all but growled at her – "_Idiot_, you'll catch yer death out here without a damn jacket. The hell were you thinking?"

She blinked, momentarily thrown as she looked at the heavy piece of fabric now weighing her down. It was his coat.

Her heart did that annoying leap again.

It was much too big on her, to the point where the hem sagged in the mud at her feet, but it was damp and warm and it smelled like him, and she could hear the raindrops as they pattered across the coarse material now spread across her shoulders. She turned her head to look up at him. He wasn't any better off than her, soaked through and through by the rain. His usually well-groomed mane hung limply down his back, and for a second she was stunned to silence because he looked–

"Pretty."

Metal-studded brows furrowed sharply at that, and he leaned closer, enough to make her take a reflexive step back. "What was that, shrimp?"

A wavering smile tugged at her lips despite everything, and she found herself laughing. "You look pretty when you're soaked. Huh. You're lucky." She motioned to herself in all her drenched glory, the love-child of a wet cat and a soaked rag.

Her remark earned her an incredulous splutter, and the usually fearsome man looked so blessedly _put out__,_ she could only laugh.

"Oye! Don't you dare _laugh,_ you–"

But she laughed, and she laughed, and she laughed so hard she had to bend over before she fell over, clutching her stomach and wheezing as it rolled out of her in peals. And his growing outrage only made her laugh harder.

"Hey!"

She yelped as she found herself hoisted up by the neck of her shirt until she was looking directly into his eyes. "Who're you calling 'pretty', midget?"

She grinned, her anger seeming to have bled out of her with her laughter. "You," she said, not being able to help herself. After all, it was the least he deserved for his comment earlier. And there was no real malice in his eyes, anyhow, just embarrassment, and if she could believe her eyes, his ears were tinged ever so slightly.

Grumbling to himself, Gajeel put her down on her feet a little more roughly than intended, making her wobble, before squaring his shoulders and shaking the rain out of his eyes, looking for all the world like an angry, ruffled cat.

"I'm sorry, Gajeel. Is 'handsome' better?"

His eyes twinkled mischievously at that, and his irritation might have been a figment of her imagination for how fast it vanished from his face, and she realized her mistake a little too late. Her smile faltered, and she felt her stomach drop with utter mortification as realization dawned on her.

"Think I'm handsome, do ya?"

"N-no. I mean, _yes, _but–"

His grin was razor-sharp as he leaned closer, and her heart all but leapt into her throat at the sudden proximity. "Tongue-tied, bookworm? C'mon, admit it – I'm the most handsome guy you've ever met."

Levy huffed, clutching the coat tighter around her. "The most arrogant, maybe."

"And the coolest?"

She snorted at that, reaching a hand up to brush a soggy lock of hair out of her eyes. When her eyes met his, he wore an unreadable look on his face, his gaze focused intently on the top of her head. And she felt the weary realization that he'd noticed the missing headband.

"What?" she asked, though she was more than aware. _Here it comes. _

Leaning closer, to the point where her heart felt it necessary to stop completely in her chest while all the remaining blood in her body deemed it prudent to rush to her face, the dragonslayer reached out and–

–tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear. And the gesture was so startlingly _gentle_, given who was making it, and Levy was certain she'd stopped breathing altogether.

Pulling his hand back, Gajeel regarded her with an odd look on his face. "Yer hair's a mess."

Levy blinked, before self-consciously reaching up to probe at her blue locks, averting her eyes to the muddy ground as she remembered her earlier fit of rage, and the embarrassment coiled like a snake in the pit of her stomach. "Yeah."

"I like it."

She gaped, and looked up to find him still looking at her. "Uh," was all she managed at first, and swallowed. "What?"

Gajeel shrugged, a smirk curving along his mouth as he reached out to ruffle her hair, sending droplets flying everywhere. "Can't mess it up when it's all fancy and shit. It's better this way. Suits ya."

Levy had to remind herself to close her mouth. And then a goofy smile threatened to break out on her face, because that was an honest to goodness _apology_. Coming from him, it was the closest she'd ever get, anyhow.

Gajeel frowned, noticing her attempts to stifle the silly grin. "What? Did I say something?"

Levy shook her head, humming slightly to herself. "No. It's just me."

He looked dubious, and of course he wouldn't let that go so easily. "Just you?"

She grinned. "Yup. I'm an idiot."

Gajeel's brows went up, a bemused smile tugging on his mouth. "Looking a bit like one, yeah."

Levy shook her head and grinned. "No, you don't understand. I am an _idiot_!"

"Okay...?"

She nodded to herself, before looking up and locking gazes with him, brown eyes alight with determination. "Thank you, Gajeel."

And before he could open his mouth to ask what the hell she was thanking him for, she'd closed the gap between them, snaking her arms around his midsection as she pressed herself close. Going ramrod stiff in surprise and barely stopping himself from yelling out in protest, the dragonslayer stood still as a rigid statue as the tiny mage pressed her nose into his drenched shirt, hands fisting in the fabric at his back.

"O-oye, Levy–"

Pulling back ever so slightly, Levy retracted a hand to push her bangs out of her face, fighting to keep her blushing to a minimum as she pointedly avoided his gaze. Without stepping away, she reached up to slide the coat off her shoulders, but startled when his hand suddenly covered hers, stopping her. When she looked up at him, there was an odd light in his eyes.

"Keep it 'til ya get back."

And then he was sliding her arms into the much-too-big sleeves, before tugging the coat closer around her shivering form, and Levy could only stare as she let herself be dressed like a child. Pulling his hands back, Gajeel reached out to give her forehead a gentle poke, making her waver a bit on her feet.

"Get back inside before ya catch a cold, shortstuff. I ain't having that on my head."

She nodded, a small smile tugging at her mouth. Throwing his hand up into a parting salute, Gajeel turned on his heel, hands in his pockets as he began his trek back to his quarters. Levy felt her smile widen, before stretching into a full-blown grin as she watched him walk away through the rain. Tugging the coat tighter around her, she pressed her nose against the collar, breathing in the smell of it, her smile never fading even as she turned to walk back to the lodge.

She was an idiot. Smitten out of her mind to the point where she'd replaced common logic of all things Gajeel in favour of the foreign, foolish desire to catch the eye of the man she fancied. How had she managed to convince herself changing her hair would make a difference? _This was Gajeel Redfox. _

And she, Levy McGarden, was an idiot.

Nodding to herself, Levy made her resolve. He obviously cared, despite having strange ways of showing it. She _knew_ he cared. And it didn't matter if she wasn't Erza or Cana or Lucy or Mirajane. She was Levy. She read books. And she would bet all the books in her private library she was a whole lot more important to the dragonslayer than he let on.

Grinning to herself, Levy picked up her pace as she passed through the entrance to the inn, cheerfully ignoring the lingering stares and not-so-quiet whispers her new wardrobe earned her. She made a beeline for the staircase to her room, a determined spring in her step.

Lucy had, after all, offered her advice.

* * *

><p>AN: Anyone who's ever been smitten out of their minds will recognize this particular brand of crazy. The metalwork-headband was inspired by the lovely 'Plans and Execution' by ArouraLeona – a quality treat if you like this pairing.<p> 


	3. subtle as a kick to the face

AN: Changing the point-of-view to mix things up. Sometimes idiots need help, and Lily decides to lend a paw.

Disclaimer: Fairy Tail and its characters belong to Hiro Mashima; I own absolutely nothing. Cover image by Rae.

* * *

><p><strong>part III.<strong>

They might as well have been serenading each other.

Lily snorted softly to himself as he regarded his partner and the little script mage. The object of their conversation was lost on the Exceed, but the blush on Levy's face was glaringly obvious even at a distance, and the same went for the small, casual touches Gajeel probably wasn't even aware he was so freely handing out. Honestly, the poking was on the level of a preschooler with a crush, and everyone could see she liked the hair-ruffling, even if it was a touch patronizing.

He shook his head. Idiots, the both of them. So glaringly, obviously, hair-tearingly interested in each other, he doubted anyone spending more than five minutes in their company could help but catch on. Anyone but _themselves,_ that was.

Which was the root of the problem, really. He knew Gajeel harboured an interest in the little mage that went beyond the reluctant acceptance he seemed to harbour when it came to the rest of the guild. Hell, 'interest' didn't even begin to cover it if Lily were to be completely honest with himself. Going by the distinctive lack of the usual insults the man couldn't help but dole out every five minutes, and the generally hostile behaviour he tried to pass off as acceptable having been replaced by something that actually resembled some kind of gruff politeness, Lily had come to the conclusion that the man had it pretty bad for the girl.

And Lily knew Gajeel. He _spoke_ Gajeel. The man was a mountain of complexities, but the Exceed prided himself on having managed to figure him out. So in essence, the man couldn't hide much from him. Not that he ever tried, but there were some things Lily felt his partner was more reluctant to talk about than others. Levy being a prime example.

He knew there was history there, and he had a feeling it wasn't the best kind of history – not the one rehashed with a laugh over a cup of something warm, anyhow. He was aware of Gajeel's previous affiliation with the now disbanded Phantom Lord, and knew many in Fairy Tail still kept their guard up around him for just that reason. He'd heard the war mentioned briefly by the man himself in the past, but it was a subject that could only be approached after a few pints, and even then, Lily was always left with more questions than answers.

And then there was the fierce dislike held by the two remaining members of Shadow Gear that went a bit further than the general mistrust most of the others held for the dragonslayer. It had piqued his interest when he'd first joined – as his first impression of Jet and Droy had been of two generally amiable blokes. That they would hold such aversions towards Gajeel, even after such a long time, spoke of something more than the man's previous history as a Phantom Lord mage.

Then again, he thought, as he watched the two seethe quietly in a corner at the interaction between their partner and the iron dragonslayer, it could just be the fact that she was so clearly infatuated with the man. After all, at least from what Lily knew, Jet had harboured feelings for the mage as long as they'd known each other.

Closing his eyes, the Exceed was glad no one in the room had the abilities to read his mind, least of all Gajeel, who was already teasing him for being such a blatant gossip. Which he probably was, although he hadn't meant to become so involved with guild hearsay. He'd just been interested in finding out as much as he could about the individual members of Fairy Tail when he'd first joined. It wasn't his fault he'd asked Mirajane of all people – it had been a random pick, really – and had gotten everyone's romantic entanglements (past, present _and_ speculated future) as part of the bargain.

Glancing back at his partner, Lily could only shake his head. If he'd thought the S-class exams hadn't fed the rumour mill enough about the odd couple, the comfortable companionship between the two that had started manifesting in the aftermath was enough to make for even the most outrageous of stories. And if Levy thought the only ones who knew were him and Lucy, she had a rather unpleasant discovery coming.

He snorted softly to himself, a small smile on his face. It was better she didn't know – the girl probably wouldn't know what to do with herself if she were to discover all the bets going around the guild. He hadn't had anything to do with those, of course – at least not in starting them, but...he might have a few jewels invested in one or two. But then, everyone had, because if there was one thing the members of Fairy Tail loved spending their time doing besides partying at inopportune hours of the day, it was meddle in each other's private lives. And short of the promise of a good fight, there was little that could rival the sheer excitement that seemed to surround the unsuspecting could-be/should-be-couples.

Especially when they insisted on being as blatantly transparent as the two currently sharing the figurative limelight.

"You're seeing it too, right?"

Inclining his head, Lily regarded the blonde stellar mage as she leaned on the bar next to him. He smirked. "As if it isn't obvious?"

Lucy grinned. "Not to those two it isn't. At least not to her, with the way she's been acting lately." She shook her head in wonderment. "Trying to get his attention when she already has it all to herself."

Pantherlily snorted. "At least she's honest about it. I don't even know if he's aware that he likes her." Lucy raised a brow at that, and he shrugged. "It's _Gajeel._ I don't think he knows the meaning of the word."

"He likes _you,_ doesn't he?"

He gave her a pointed look. "I'm his cat – that's a whole other matter. _That_ kind of like," he gestured towards the two on the opposite side of the room, letting the comment trail off for emphasis. Levy had her arms crossed over her chest, glaring at nothing in particular as the dragonslayer condescendingly patted her head like one would an amusing pet. Lucy hummed.

"I see what you mean. But he's pretty perceptive...Maybe he just hasn't accepted it yet?"

Lily shrugged. "Might be. He _is_ infuriatingly stubborn."

"True that."

Lily paused, mulling over her previous words. "You really don't think she's aware?"

At his question, her expression became quizzical. "Aware of what? That he likes her?"

He shook his head. "It's a bit more serious than that, I think. She has a...hold over him, whether he wants to admit it or not. It...worries me. From what I've learned about dragons..." he trailed off. Lucy nodded, catching his meaning.

"You think she could hurt him." It wasn't a question.

He snorted. "Don't say that to his face – he'd go ballistic at the mere assumption. But yes, in essence. I've understood dragons only ever take one mate, and I don't know if that tradition carries any weight for humans _raised_ by dragons, but if he were to advance on this and it is true...she could do serious damage if she's not careful."

Lucy shifted her gaze to the pair, and she was silent a long moment. "She is pretty smitten, and all things considered, their history...I don't think she'd take something like that lightly. Not knowing what it'd entail, at least."

At the mention of their history, Lily was tempted to pry, but stopped himself. If anyone, he would ask Gajeel. He sighed. "Dragonslayers are complicated creatures."

She snorted at that. "Tell me about it. _Possessive_ is only grazing the surface. Then there's the hoarding..."

He shuddered. "Oh, you don't have to tell me."

She grinned. "They're very good companions, though," she said fondly. Her gaze drifting to Jet and Droy, still steaming at their table at the far end of the room. The sight pulled a sigh from her lips. "Many of the others still fear him, and I _get_ that. But...he's a good guy, I think. Even if he can't be polite to save his life."

Lily smiled. "You should tell him that."

She raised a brow. "He'd rather eat dirt, I think. _Stubbornness_ – that's another dragon trait."

"Aye."

She shook her head, another smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. "They're cute together, though. Who'd have thought?"

"No one. Least of all themselves, I'd wager."

"You think we should do something about it?"

He raised a brow at that, intrigued. "You mean...meddle?"

The grin on her face reminded him of Mira. "Well, they're obviously not going to get anywhere by themselves, are they? It won't be meddling so much as a...light nudge, in the right direction. She's already asked me for advice, but as long as she's refusing to tell him outright that she's in love with him they're going to keep circling around each other like this for the next decade."

The Exceed nodded. "And unless he's certain of her feelings, he's not going to act on his, much less admit them." He knew better than anyone how careful Gajeel was with his affections – although the dragonslayer wouldn't have been caught dead calling it anything of the sort. He'd call it something neutral like 'respect' or 'regard', although whichever way you looked at it, it all boiled down to the same thing. Sentiment, to which Gajeel had long since declared himself allergic.

Lily pondered Lucy's proposition, mulling it over in his mind and even catching himself wondering whether a light nudge was going to do it. With those two, a good, hard _shove_ would be more effective.

Whichever it was, though, _something_ had to be done. And so,

"What did you have in mind?"

* * *

><p>On arriving in Crocas, Lily hadn't considered the sheer size of the city. In fact, he hadn't thought much about it walking the streets, either – it'd been like any other town, large and sprawling and full of humans. And he'd used to live in the Royal City of Edolas – you couldn't get much bigger than that. Even so, the view from Honeybone's rooftop was pretty amazing, and he had to admit the city did have a certain appeal. And the sight of the Royal Palace in the far distance, rising tall above the other buildings and gleaming in the light of the waning moon, reminded him of home.<p>

"Hey."

Glancing down at his companion, Lily regarded the dragonslayer sprawled on the rooftop. While Natsu was in the infirmary sleeping off his motion sickness, Gajeel had refused to so much as lean on the Exceed for support after the day's competition, stubbornly declaring himself no worse for wear despite the glaringly obvious fact that he'd barely been able to stand upright. There was still a slightly green tint to his cheeks, but otherwise he'd mostly recovered, and was now laid out on the roof of the inn.

"What?"

Gajeel furrowed both brows in obvious suspicion. "You've got something on yer mind."

"And if I have?"

He snorted. "Keeping secrets now?"

Lily shrugged. "I could, if I wanted to."

"But you wouldn't."

Lily smirked. "You're right, I wouldn't. So I'm going to ask you something, and you're going to be honest with me."

Frown deepening, Gajeel pushed himself up on his elbows. "What are you scheming, cat?"

"I want you to tell me what happened during the war with Phantom Lord." Locking gazes with the dragonslayer, Lily watched his face closely for any reaction.

And if he'd been anyone else, he might not have caught the way his partner stiffened in surprise at the question. It was the tiniest fraction of movement, and quickly covered up, but for anyone as attuned to the man's moods and mannerisms as Lily was, it was clear as day.

"Thought I'd already told you about that. I pissed off the fairies, and they declared war. Yadda yadda yadda, my former master got his ass handed to him, and–"

"I want to know what happened to Levy."

_That_ shut him up. Lily crossed his arms over his chest as Gajeel averted his gaze to some point in the far distance. He was rigid with tension – his entire posture screaming defiance – and danger thrummed heavily in the air. And if Lily really had been someone else – _anyone_ else – he would have bolted. But he wasn't just anyone, he was the man's damn cat, and he'd had enough of the pussy-footing the idiot was doing when it came to the subject at hand. He'd kept his curiosity to himself long enough – he wanted answers.

After a minute or so of high-strung tension, Gajeel seemed to relax, slouching slightly in his seat, and Lily exhaled as the pressure in the air lessened. The dragonslayer was still pointedly not looking at him, and when he spoke, there was a foreign quality to his voice Lily hadn't heard before. A reluctance, of sorts.

"Master Jose wanted me to do something that'd make Fairy Tail initiate a guild war, so I destroyed the old guild, hoping it'd hit a nerve. When it didn't..." he trailed off, and Lily was shocked to see it was actually taking him effort to speak the words.

"When it didn't...?"

Gajeel inhaled through his nose, before sighing heavily. "When it didn't get the desired reaction, I picked out their weakest team, beat the living shit out of them and crucified them to a tree," he declared, eyes focused intently on anything but the Exceed. Lily was looking at the dragonslayer with wide eyes, not quite believing his ears.

"Shadow Gear," he said at length, not quite knowing what else to say. A brusque nod answered his silent question, and Gajeel looked away.

"I needed something that'd force them to act. Shorty–" he swore under his breath. Lily assumed he hadn't intended the nickname to slip, _"_Lev_-fuck_! _She_ was clearly a favourite, alright? I picked her 'cause I knew the Master would act– knew Salamander would act. She was all...happy and innocent and shit. It'd..." he inhaled sharply.

"It'd infuriate them," Lily finished for him. Gajeel nodded.

"It did. Fairies went off their rockers after that."

There was no grin on his face, Lily noticed, despite the obvious victory it must had been at the time. There wasn't even an arrogant smirk, only a deeply haunted look that spoke of guilt the size of a mountain, and he would bet the fur on his back that it wasn't something the man openly displayed to the others.

And suddenly Lily had all his answers. Why the rest of team Shadow Gear were reluctant to accept him into the guild, and why the man had gone to such lengths to make Levy an S-class mage. Why he was holding back despite his obvious fondness for the girl, but...

"She's forgiven you."

It wasn't a question. Thinking about the little mage with her eyes wide and grinning and her infectious smile, and the ease with which she interacted with the dragonslayer...that there existed such a past between them was hard to wrap his head around. Other than himself, Lily couldn't name anyone in Fairy Tail who trusted Gajeel as much as Levy did.

"If you're wondering _why,_ I ain't the person to ask. Hell, if anyone's wonderin' it's me."

Lily said nothing to that, only continued looking at his partner. Gajeel still wasn't looking at him, though, but had his gaze fixed on the rooftops in the distance. After a few moments of laden silence, the Exceed finally spoke, "Have you talked to her about it?"

Gajeel snorted. "The hell d'ya think that'd go? 'Oh, by the way, remember how we met? Let's sit down and recap how I beat the living shit out of you. Good fucking times!' _Fuck_, no." He shook his head, and when he spoke next, his voice had lowered considerably. "Shorty...she used ta bolt at the sight of me, y'know? Couldn't take being in the same room at first. And even when she could, she always smelled like she thought I'd turn on her any second. I–_damn it,_" a frustrated growl slipped from his throat, and he slammed his fist down onto the roof-tiles, sending cracks running through the stone. "I worked too fuckin' hard, alright? You think I'll just throw all that away? If she...if–"

"You care about her."

Rounding on the small Exceed, Gajeel snarled, "_Yes_, I fucking _care_! Ya happy now?"

"Are _you_?"

"What are ya, my shrink now? Fuck, Lily I ain't got time for this shit."

Lily crossed his arms over his chest, jumping down from his perch to land on the dragonslayer's chest, meeting his gaze squarely with his own. "We're partners, or have you forgotten? And I'm not going to sit by while you brood yourself into a stupor because you're too damn _afraid_ to make a move on the girl you're clearly infatuated with."

"I ain't fuckin' infatuate–"

"Call it whatever you like, you overgrown _child_, it's the same whichever way you look at it."

Gajeel glared up at the Exceed, and was about to speak when Lily cut him off. "No, no – I'm doing the talking now, alright? Just shut up for a minute." About to protest, unsurprisingly, Lily clamped a paw over the dragonslayer's mouth. "You like her – _don't,_" he warned, his glare daring the irate dragon to even try, "–deny it. She makes you happy. _Again_, don't try to deny it, because I know you too damn well to fall for the pseudo I-don't-give-a-fuck-about-anyone-but-myself crap you're always trying to sell. She trusts you. She's clearly forgiven you for the shit you did in the past, so then my question is, and you _will_ answer this, you iron-brained oaf, or so help me I will physically _shake_ the words out of you."

Getting no immediate protest from his partner, Lily removed his paw, but didn't drop his gaze. "Why?" he asked, and the question seemed to echo every question he could possibly think of at once. _Why are you being so damn stubborn? Why are you denying yourself happiness when it's right within your reach? Why are you so _**_afraid_**_? _

Gajeel glared, but remained stubbornly silent. Lily matched the glower with one of his own, refusing to back down now that he'd gotten to this point. He'd stay all night if that's what it took.

Finally, after a few long moments of intense staring, Gajeel sighed. "It's not that simple."

"I didn't say it was."

"It's...she's–"

"In love with you."

"You don't know tha–"

"Take my word for it."

"Damn it! Even if she's..."

_"In love with you."_

"Shaddup! And wipe the grin off yer face, ya damn meddler. Even if she is, which I _doubt– _don't say it! Fuck, let me speak, will ya?" he glared, and Lily remained silent. Gajeel sighed, and continued, though with a heavy reluctance, "Even if she is, there's no way it'd work. It's too much of a gamble, and there's too many things she ain't aware of. I'm..._we're_ not like humans – it doesn't work the same way with us. Mating and shit – it's hella lot more permanent than whatever human flings she's used to."

"And? Knowing her, I wouldn't be surprised if she's already aware of that."

Gajeel rolled his eyes. "Doesn't fucking make her an expert. Theory isn't the same as practice or whatever, and ya can't get everything from books."

It was Lily's turn to roll his eyes. "I know. And I think _she_ knows, too. She's pretty smart – wait, sorry, I forgot. She's __brilliant___._"

"Shaddup." Gajeel swatted at the Exceed, who dodged easily. Settling back down, Lily regarded the dragonslayer closely.

"What if she finds someone else?" he asked then. Gajeel didn't answer, but there was no denying the way he visibly bristled at the question. Lily wasn't smiling. "If you keep denying it, and she grows tired of waiting, and finds someone else? Would you be okay with that?"

When Gajeel still didn't answer, Lily pushed further. "Would you be happy, seeing her with someone that's not you? You're pretty possessive already, and you've got her pretty much all to yourself, not counting her teammates, of course. What would happen if you stopped being the centre of her attention?" The air was growing thicker again, and the tension was almost palpable. And still Lily pushed further. "And when she starts to smell of someone else? Would you be fine with that? Would you be okay if–" he was cut off mid-sentence as the dragonslayer bolted up in his seat, throwing the small Exceed off and making grab for his tail. Lily dodged the attack, moving to hover in front of the seething dragonslayer, who was snarling outright,

"Stop it! _Fuck, __j_ust...fucking _stop it_! I'd hate it, alright? I'd be fucking miserable, okay? If it hadn't fucking killed me first, I'd hunt the shithead down and..." he trailed off, red eyes alight with fury, before he forcibly exhaled air from his lungs, letting his shoulders slump. Reaching up, he dragged a hand through his hair, pressing the heel of his hand to his eyes. "_Fuck,_ Lil. I'm in too deep, alright? Fucking screwed myself over."

Lily sighed. "You melodramatic oaf – it's not the end of the world. So you found a woman. Congratulations_.__"_

"It ain't that fucking simple, alright?"

Lily snorted. "Only _you_ could possibly make this more complicated than you already have. People find each other, Gajeel. It's been happening for centuries. Humans get married. Dragons mate. You with me so far? You know what, don't answer that. I'll just continue," he said, cutting the dragonslayer off and earning himself another glare.

"She's in love with you – if you doubt my word, ask her yourself if you can find the guts to do so. You've chosen her, or whatever it is you dragons do. Hell if I know. If you'd just explain it to her, she'd understand it a lot better than whatever confusing shit you're doing now, circling each other like you've no idea what to do with yourself. And as you're still looking at me with that glare on your face, I'm assuming you have other qualms against doing this – though I can't possibly imagine _what_ those could be. But enlighten me, _please."_

Gajeel said nothing, only continued to glare and Lily raised a brow in challenge. A tense silence settled between them, before Gajeel finally relented, pulling his gaze from Pantherlily and towards the city sprawling below them. There was a troubled air about him that made Lily hold his tongue – he knew the man well enough to know when to push and when to hold back.

After a lengthy pause, Gajeel looked back at the Exceed having now settled back down beside him. "I told you I do...missions for the Master. Stuff the others aren't supposed to know about." Lily nodded. Gajeel sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's...complicated shit. Redemption, for what I did when I was in Phantom. Sketchy business. _Dangerous. _But I was the guy fer the job, according to the old man. And it didn't seem like such a big deal at the time, but now..."

Lily frowned, understanding dawning on him. "You were alone then."

"Had nothin' to lose, and nothing that could be held against me. Perfect candidate," he drawled.

Lily shook his head. "But if it's the job that's the problem, can't you just ask the Master for something less dangerous? He'd understand why, if you'd–" Gajeel turned his gaze on the Exceed, effectively cutting him off, and Lily was started by the sheer intensity in the look.

And suddenly he understood.

Gajeel sighed. "I fucked up, Lily. I wasn't supposed to fucking..._care._" He grimaced, a snarl curling his lip. Pinching the bridge of his nose, the dragonslayer exhaled. "_Fuck_."

Lily regarded his partner sadly, knowing what he was going to say wasn't going to be the least bit helpful, but seeing no other option. "She's already in this, Gajeel. You can't ignore that."

"It's not too–"

"But what if it is? The entire guild can see there's something between the two of you. You might have been alone before, and you might have had nothing to lose then, but you do _now,_ whether you want to admit it or not. If she's in danger, she deserves to know."

When Gajeel didn't answer, Lily probed further. "What are you afraid of, Gajeel?"

The man said nothing. Arms crossed over his chest and eyes fixed on the palace spire in the distance, several moments passed between them before he finally spoke, and when he did, his voice was a low rumble in the night, barely discernible if not for Lily's hearing.

"After Tenrou...I swore she wouldn't get hurt again on my watch. She gets into enough trouble as it is, becoming involved with me...it'd be pinning a fucking notice on her head."

Lily crossed his arms. "And if she's willing to take the risk?"

Gajeel glared at nothing in particular, and Lily sighed, getting to his feet and releasing his wings, flexing them as he turned to look at Gajeel. "You know what you want – you don't need me to tell you that. You do, however, obviously need me to tell you to stop being ridiculous. She's tough – _you_ of all people should know that by now. So let her make her own decisions. Just...talk to her. I know you can – you're pretty fluent if you put your mind to it," he added with a smirk.

Gajeel snorted. "Keeping joking, cat," he warned. "Just wait until the next thunderstorm hits – we'll see who's laughing then."

Lily grinned, glad the man was coming out of his previous mood. Taking to the air, he circled the roof once, before looking down at the dragonslayer still sprawled across the tiles. "You going to bed soon? There's another competition tomorrow morning."

Gajeel made a grimace, no doubt at the imminent prospect of _movement._ "I'll be down."

Lily snorted. "Well, don't think _too_ much – I don't know if your brain can handle it."

"_Thunderstorm_," Gajeel reminded.

"Drama queen."

"Gossipmonger."

Lily grinned. "Can't really argue with that. Well, I'm off to bed – don't stay up too late."

"Yeah, yeah. Night, Lil."

Flexing his wings once, the Exceed left the rooftop, circling down until the found the window of the room they'd been given for their stay in Crocas, mind full of answers but sadly, no reassurances. He'd told Lucy he'd have a talk with Gajeel about the script-mage, but he'd thought the man was just being stubbornly obtuse about it – he hadn't had the faintest idea he'd been carrying around concerns of such magnitude.

Frowning, Pantherlily let himself flop down onto the soft mattress, discarding dignity – he was alone, after all. Looking up at the ceiling, he contemplated his partner still on the roof above, wondering what was going on in his head. He knew the man better than most – knew him to be an incessantly stubborn idiot at the best of times. It was the reason he'd chosen to stay in Earthland.

He smirked, but it was a fleeting smile. Although Gajeel's stubbornness was often for the best, he feared what would come of it this time. The man was remarkably hard-headed when it came to his own happiness – 'cynical' didn't even _begin_ to cover it. And if he'd made up his mind about keeping Levy out of danger – although Lily honestly though it was a little overdue, and that she was most likely in danger already – there was little he could say to convince him otherwise. Sighing, Lily rubbed his temples. He could only hope the girl herself had more luck.

After all, if anyone could challenge Gajeel...


	4. breaking point

AN: Author takes some liberties with dragonslayer nature in this, but don't worry, there's nothing dubious, but mentions of hoarding and enhanced senses. And I really like the thought that dragons mate for life and so giving his heart away would be a pretty serious thing for Gajeel. If that's not your cuppa for whatever reason, this story's not for you.

Disclaimer: Fairy Tail and its characters belong to Hiro Mashima; I own absolutely nothing. Cover image by Rae.

* * *

><p><strong>part IV.<strong>

Sometimes, Lily was too damn perceptive for his own good.

Which wasn't usually a problem. It was good having someone around who actually understood the workings of his mind and trusted him based on that knowledge. Sure, it had taken some getting used to, but he'd wanted a partner pretty badly, and knowing both Salamander and the kid were pretty close to their respective Exceeds, Gajeel hadn't made too big a fuss about it when he'd let Lily into his life. And it hadn't been as bad as he'd imagined, finally having a friend in a guild that still held so much mistrust for him – someone who hadn't known him from his time _before_ Fairy Tail, and didn't judge him based on his previous allegiances. No, Lily was cool, and he was a lot like Gajeel in many ways, but still, having his internal problems handed to him on a platter had severely rankled the dragonslayer's pride. And had it been anyone else, they'd have been violently thrown off the roof. Or skewered on a nice metal spike and _then_ thrown off the roof.

But it hadn't been anyone else. It had been Lily, who was his cat, and so what could he have done but listen? Which had made him think. And then rethink, and then think some more, and _fuck,_ he could use a strong drink right about now.

Glaring at nothing in particular, Gajeel continued trudging down the nearly empty street. There was going to be a big fight in the arena, and even though he wasn't really up for seeing Fairy Tail get their asses handed to them for the umpteenth time, he had an obligation to be there as a competing participant. But it wasn't so much the tournament that was bothering him, not really. He knew it'd turn in their favour sooner or later. Salamander had already had his customary 'we'll do anything for our nakama, because we're mages of Fairy Tail!'-speech, and shit usually started going their way after that.

So no, the tournament didn't bother him. What _was_ bothering him was a certain bookworm who was currently – and unsuccessfully, mind you – trying to shadow him.

Lily had gone on ahead earlier – a suspicious move in and of itself, but Gajeel hadn't thought much about it at the time. He hadn't gotten far from Honeybone, either, before he'd caught on. Her attempted stealth was so transparent, it was damn near embarrassing, and even though she was tiny as hell, she made so much noise he'd have heard her even without his sharp hearing. Which was really saying something.

Then again, maybe she wanted him to hear. He'd considered the thought, but he'd shoved it away, not wanting to deal with the implications. That meant he'd have to acknowledge her presence sooner or later. It meant they'd have to...talk. And if they did that, he might just go and say or do something he'd regret. Or something embarrassingly mushy. Or both. _Fuck, __but h_e was turning into such a pansy.

Gajeel grumbled low in his throat, feeling his hackles rise. He'd been on edge all week, particularly after she'd discovered him outside her window that night, and even more so after his talk with Lily the night before. And as if he hadn't already been having problems deciding what to do with the change in the atmosphere between them that had been present since the exams, now...now he didn't even know what he _wanted_ to do.

He wanted her closer. He wanted her to leave him the hell alone. He wanted to be the centre of attention of those expressive eyes. He wanted to shove her away so forcibly she'd never speak to him again. He wanted her trust. He wanted her to hate him.

He wanted _her_, but there was no way he could have her. There was no way he deserved her – it was simple logic. And even if she didn't give a damn, which was most likely the case, judging by her persistent – and now _obvious,_ thanks to Lily's little revelation – attempts at wiggling her way into his black heart, there was still the matter with his role in the war that was coming to Fairy Tail. He didn't know when – he knew very little, in fact, other than if Ivan's sanity was anything to go by, they were sooner or later going to be up to their ears in shit and dark mages. And whether he liked it or not, Gajeel was stuck smack right in the middle of it all. And if she still persisted, there was no way he would be able to avoid having her caught in the crossfire. She'd be the weak link Ivan would go for first, were Gajeel's true allegiance ever discovered. And they_ would be__ – __it_ was only a matter of time.

And the worst part of it all was that he _knew_ she wouldn't back down if he told her everything – every dirty little detail about Raven Tail, and about his own role in the twisted web the two masters were spinning around each other. She was stubborn to a fault – to the point where she'd give _him_ a run for his money – and not likely to be thrown off, even by his more or less shady dealings with the magical underworld, past and present. He knew she'd insist on some self-sacrificing, heroic shit like standing by his side no matter what – she was a Fairy Tale mage to the marrow, and he knew this by experience. Her refusal to back down when he'd attacked her team had taught him _that,_ if anything. And it scared the living shit out of him, because shady or not, it hadn't been in his intentions to _kill_ her that night. But from what he knew about Raven Tail, she would be shown no mercy in an inevitable guild war with them. And if Ivan could connect her to Gajeel in any way–

_Fuck._ She was already a distraction – he didn't even _want_ to think what he'd do if war did break out. Raven Tail were keeping their cards insufferably close to their chests for the moment, but anything could trigger it, really, and then he'd be forced to act. And he had no idea what either master expected him to do. Not at this point, anyhow. The only thing Gajeel was more than sure of was that if he let her get any closer, let her get under his skin and into the selfish heart he'd just recently started to learn how to deal with, she would get hurt. If not by the secrets he'd been keeping from her – from_ all of them _– then by whoever found it prudent to hurt _him _through her. He'd seen it happen too many times. Hell, he'd even made use of it himself on occasion; there was a reason he'd taunted Salamander with their capture of the bunny girl during the skirmish between Phantom and Fairy Tail. He'd wanted a reaction. He'd wanted the idiot to _hurt_.

And it had worked like a charm, never mind the fact that the younger dragonslayer had handed Gajeel his own ass on a platter because of it. The _fact_ was that before the brat had even turned up, Gajeel had beaten the crap out of the blonde stellar mage just for kicks. And the thought of someone pulling the same shit with Levy to get to _him..._someone with a lot less scruples and not an ounce of mercy in their hearts – the thought made him sick to his stomach. If this kept going in the direction it was – if she kept pushing softly and he continued to _let her_, he would be her undoing. And in turn, her undoing would be his own.

Inhaling through his nose to settle his rising ire, the iron dragonslayer tried picking up his pace, and almost laughed at the idiocy. He could easily out_walk _her if he wanted to, but therein lay the root of the problem: _he didn't really want to._

He knew that, by not being entirely human, he relied quite a lot on instincts most would find...animalistic, maybe even a tad barbaric. And it was true. Although it was rarely mentioned in the guild, even though there were _three_ of them in Fairy Tail alone – there was a lot more to being a dragonslayer than enhanced senses and being prone to motion sickness. He assumed Wendy was a little too young to have experienced it yet, but Natsu wasn't, and Gajeel figured he'd kept that particular part under wraps to avoid causing any awkward situations. Because for a dragon, physical attraction was a turbulent affair, to say the least. Enhanced senses tended to complicate simple things, like smelling if someone was attracted to you. Gajeel personally hadn't had many problems with that particular part of his nature. He'd grown accustomed to it early on, and found ways to override his instincts with his human nature. For extra caution, he'd even taken to request longer, solitary missions during the times it was at its worst, and it usually sorted itself out. Basically, it hadn't been an issue.

And then, curse his luck to hell, he'd found _her_.

It hadn't been an instantaneous thing – the attraction. It had been slow in coming, and it had taken him a long time just to come to grips with what it even was. Not surprisingly, it had come around the time he'd tentatively admitted to actually caring for someone other than his own selfish ass, although he was still somewhat embarrassed about that. But where the...feelings – _fuck,_ he couldn't even _think_ along those lines without physically wincing – were a difficult mouthful to swallow, the simple attraction for the little mage had been bloody hard to deny. Admitting it to anyone though, even Lily, had been out of the question. _Was_ still out of the question, although with how he had been acting since the S-class exams, he was failing spectacularly at that particular vow.

And nevermind the fact that the want or the attract– _damn it, whatever it was called!_ – always seemed to just _love_ to rear its ugly-ass head whenever he was angry, and he was presently _pissed out of his fucking mind, _and the object of his ire was currently strolling innocently behind him, having no clue of what a damned headache she was giving him with her fucking trusting smiles and obvious lack of self-preservation.

He couldn't have another close encounter with her – he just couldn't. He'd do..._something_, he was sure of it. Something he'd regret – something that'd undoubtedly only give her more hope, or scare her off, or _both_, and even if he fucking wanted nothing more than to just take her and hoard her and keep her all to himself and _fuck_, when the hell had he started sounding like such a pussy?

But it was true. He might be an ass, but he was a fucking _dragon,_ and he was fiercely protective of those few he held close to him, especially the one his less-than-human nature had so unashamedly – and without his consent, too, fucking stupid dragonslayer instinct – chosen for himself. His old man would have had a good, long laugh at his expense, no doubt, having often tried to impart the wisdom of finding someone to settle down with when Gajeel had been younger. And even if he wasn't a real dragon, and she was as human as you could get, she was, essentially, his chosen. A dragon's heart was a fierce thing, and once given it wasn't just handed back.

And it pissed him off, because his instincts were screaming at him to protect her, to hoard her and keep her out of harm's way, while his common sense – his _fears_, a part of his mind added unhelpfully, but he shoved it back into the dark corner from where it had crawled out – told him he wouldn't be _able_ to keep her safe. And to a dragon, failing to protect a mate – even a potential one – was a dire matter.

"Gajeel?"

The sound of his name being called sent an involuntary shudder down his spine, and he was suddenly desperate to make a run for it. Fighting the desire to turn around, Gajeel kept on walking. He heard her footsteps approach from behind – he'd be able to pick out her pace from a mile away, he was sure. The light, giddy steps that were an easy reflection of her naturally peppy, go-lucky attitude.

_Fuck_, he wanted to run.

"Gajeel! I know you can hear me."

She was getting closer. There was only the two of them now in the entire street. Where the hell had everyone gone?

"Gajeel...?" a tentative hand came to rest on his right forearm, the touch feather-light and sending a shock through his system almost equivalent of the time Laxus had all but electrified the crap out of him. "Hey, Ga–"

Looking back, he wouldn't even remember the touch that had triggered his actions, but suddenly he'd spun around with speed usually reserved for battle, startling the tiny mage out of her skin, and before he knew was he was doing, he'd dragged her into the nearest alleyway and slammed her against the brick wall of one of the buildings with more force than he might have intended, had his mind been his own.

Brown eyes looked up at him, shock swimming in their depths but, he realized, and almost wanted to howl in frustration at the sight – not an ounce of fear.

She trusted him. Even now, pinned to the wall of a dingy, dark alleyway by a more-or-less sane dragonslayer with a reputation that usually sent people running, she was looking at him with those innocent eyes of hers, and there wasn't even a _hint_ of fear in her scent. She might as well have kneed him in the groin.

"Gajeel...?" his name was murmured with concern this time, and he could have laughed.

He did laugh, actually, and it sounded almost...hysterical. More maniacal, even, than usual. But it was _ridiculous._ He could kill her in a heartbeat, and she – _she was_ _concerned_ _for ___him___._ The fucking idiot had no idea the precariously thin line she was treading.

Slim brows furrowed at his laughter, but she didn't strain against his grip on her shoulders. Small hands reached up to gently grasp his forearms, and he stiffened visibly, his laughter lodging in his throat at the touch. "Gajeel?" she tried again, her voice a little louder this time, and the thrice-cursed _concern_ was still evident, it almost made him physically ill_._ His grip on her shoulders tightened involuntarily, and she flinched as his fingers dug into her skin.

"Gajeel, you're hurting–"

"_Why?"_ His voice was a guttural rasp he almost didn't recognize.

She blinked up at him, eyes large and questioning. "Why _what_? Gajeel?"

_Why the fuck are you looking at me like that? Why aren't you more afraid? Why can't you see you're better off chasing someone else? _

_Why _**_me_**_?_

But instead he snarled, "You of all people should know better. So _why the fuck don't you?"_

His near-shout made her flinch, and suddenly she seemed so small_,_ shrinking before him as he towered above her. He was easily twice her size, and with his strength, breaking her would have been effortless. _Had been_ _effortless, __part of him reminded him with a sneer._ And she knew this better than anyone.

And yet she wasn't afraid.

Suddenly, she steeled her gaze, and then she was looking up at him with the same defiance she'd had when she'd run away from him during the exams. The shyness she'd adopted around him the past few weeks drained away, replaced with a determined squaring of her shoulders, and if he hadn't been so fucking angry, he'd have been almost impressed.

"Gajeel – you're hurting me. Let go."

He glared, tightening his grip and pushing her further into the wall behind her. "Answer my question."

She stayed stock still in his grip. "I don't even know what you're asking."

"You know exactly what I'm asking – and what you're doing!" he snapped. "I ain't fucking _blind_, Levy."

She rolled her eyes. "An inconsiderate ass, then? You know I–"

"Don't say it."

Her brows furrowed sharply. "You know I have feel–"

"I said _don't fucking say it!"_

There was little space between them now, pressed as she was between him and the wall behind her. His grip would leave bruises on her arms, but still he didn't let go. And she was still looking at him, brown eyes large and trusting, concern still swimming in them despite everything.

"Why are you doing this?" her voice was soft, barely discernible if not for their close proximity. He averted his gaze, and then her hands tightened on his arms, the pressure enough to startle him. "Gajeel. Look at me."

He tore his gaze away from the brick stone, reluctantly meeting hers. The defiance was still there, but her expression was so heartbroken he wanted to howl. "What did I do?" she asked then. "If you knew...if you knew why didn't you say something? What...what did I do wrong?" She was shaking, despite all her previous bravado, and he noticed the fear in her eyes now. Not fear of _him_ – he'd have recognized _that _anywhere. No. No, it was... fear of what he was saying. Fear of being rejected – that's what it was.

_Fuck_.

He sighed then, some of his anger bleeding out of him as he slackened his hold on her arms. His gaze immediately found the raw skin his fingers had dug into, and his brows narrowed sharply at the sight. She bruised easily – he'd discovered that in a way he'd much rather forget – and a light purplish colour was already tinting her pale skin. A growl bubbled up in his throat, but he forced it down. Inhaling deeply through his nose, he pushed himself to remain calm. She was looking at him intently, but hadn't moved an inch although he wasn't holding her in place anymore.

When he finally spoke, his voice was a low rasp in his throat, "I ain't good, Levy. Not fer anyone, least of all _you."_ Stepping back to put some distance between them, he was startled when she followed, small hands grasping the fabric of his shirt to keep him from leaving. Her eyes were still focused on his.

"Isn't that up for me to decide?"

He growled. "Listen, bookworm–"

"It's 'Levy', and no, I won't listen. _You_ listen, Gajeel Redfox," she cut him off, surprising him. Her hands shook where she'd fisted them in his shirt, but still she pushed on. "I'll ask again – why are you doing this? I thought we were getting along...I thought...things were going well."

His anger flared up again. Anger at himself, because there was a damn good reason she thought what she did. He'd been to lenient – he'd let himself get in over his head when he should have been more careful. He couldn't blame her for thinking or acting the way she did – it was _his own damn __fault_. It wasn't the bunny girl or any of the other gossips at the guild. He only had himself to thank for getting them both into such a glorious, fucking mess.

But he didn't tell her that, because that would be admitting he'd...succumbed. And Gajeel Redfox did not succumb to anything, least of all the charms of a woman half his size.

So instead he said something more like himself and not some fucking sissy. "What? Ya thought I had feelings for you, too?" He snorted. "Fuck, shrimp – I don't do that kind of shit."

She glared. "Don't patronize me."

"Well, when yer saying shit like that, what do ya exp–"

"So you deny it, then?" she asked then. Her eyes were accusing as she continued to glare at him. "You deny feeling _anything_? You just, what, played along all this time? For kicks?"

The hurt in her voice was a physical blow, but he didn't back down. "And if I was?"

She gaped, incredulity evident on her face. Then she shook her head. "You wouldn't do that," she said then, her voice cracking just ever so slightly.

He snorted. "So sure of yourself. You know _nothing about me_, Levy McGarden," he snarled. "You have this notion that I'm this _good_ guy–"

"You _are_ a good guy!"

"Shaddup! I ain't a fuckin' pansy–"

"I didn't say that. I've _never_ said that."

He scoffed. "It's the same damn thing."

It was her turn to snort. "It's not. You're still an _ass._ And you're hostile, and violent, and rude, and _arrogant_–"

He clamped a hand over her mouth, stopping her mid-rant. His expression was dead serious. "Exactly."

Reaching up, she pried his fingers away, but didn't release her grip on his hand. It easily dwarfed both of hers, but her grip was surprisingly strong. "_Exactly_," she said, and then she smiled at him – the same smile she'd given him that night on the ledge outside her window, and he felt his traitorous heart halt in his chest, and he _knew_ what was coming even before she opened her mouth.

"And I still love–"

Her back hit the wall before she'd even finished speaking, his nose buried in the smooth slope of her neck, and the smell of her was fucking _everywhere_, it was driving him out of his mind_._ His head spun and his blood was on fire in his veins, making his entire body thrum, and he knew that if he didn't get the hell away from her he might as well rip his own heart out of his chest and hand it to her, because there was no getting it back once he'd let down his guard and given it. And if he did – if he gave her the time of day, let her get under his skin, there was no giving her up. She'd be stuck with him, and all his skeletons.

"You don't know what you're getting yerself into, Shorty," he muttered against her skin, and it took him effort to force the words out. He felt uncomfortably well-attuned to his less-than-human side for the first time in a long time outside of battle, and his iron control felt like it was slipping like water through the tight grasp he usually had on it. He'd never do anything she wouldn't want – he wasn't a damn animal, and for all his questionable dealings in the past, he'd never once done anything of the sort. But enhanced senses made it hard to ignore the way she was looking at him – made it hard to step back and keep her at arms length when all he wanted was to bury his nose in her neck.

"I would if you told me," she said simply, her soft breath warm against his skin, and he bristled.

_You will be her undoing. And hers will be yours._

Pulling away with effort, Gajeel closed his eyes as he tried to gather his thoughts. His hands were still on either side of her face, boxing her in, but she made no attempt at breaking away. Exhaling deeply, the dragonslayer stepped back from the tiny mage, and when she reached for him this time, he shook his head. "Don't. Just..." he trailed off, searching for the words but finding none. He sighed. "Just...stay safe, alright?"

And then he was walking away, body bristling with pent-up frustration, inwardly cursing his glaringly obvious lack of sense, cursing himself, cursing _her_, cursing his old man and his talk of lifemates and bonds and cursing the _shit_ he had gotten himself into to the deepest, darkest pits of–

"You're a coward."

The calm statement stopped him dead in his tracks, but he refused to turn around – refused to acknowledge her, refused to acknowledge that her words had struck a cord. He fucking _hated_ being called a coward – hated it, and she knew that better than anyone.

"Shut the fuck up, Short–"

"I will if you prove me wrong," she retorted, and he could almost see her cross her arms over her chest, and picture the defiant set to her shoulders. A growl bubbled up in his throat, and he clenched his hands into fists at his side.

She continued, resolute, "You're running, but you won't tell me why. And don't try convincing me you don't feel anything – I'm not _blind_, either, you know. But at least _I_ have the guts to do something about it instead of running away like a...like a... fucking _pansy_!"

He spun to face her then, and he couldn't even fight the incredulous look he knew was plastered on his face, because he couldn't remember her so much as letting slip a _mild_ oath in all the time he'd known her. But she'd just cussed him out, and now...now she was glaring at him, tiny arms crossed over her chest and her chin raised, and in any other setting he would have sided with his initial thought that she looked _ridiculously _hot when she was angry.

And then her shoulders slumped slightly, the anger visibly draining out of her, and she looked...tried. She didn't drop her eyes from his, but continued looking at him as though she could somehow mentally will him to surrender.

"What are you afraid of, Gajeel?" she asked then, and it was the conversation with Lily all over again, and he knew he had to get away before he did something even more stupid than he already had, like let his mouth run off on him. But he couldn't move – he was rooted to the spot, held in place by the eyes looking at him so imploringly, large and brown and innocent, and suddenly he caught himself speaking without thinking–

"You."

The answer took her by surprise – that much was clear by the startled look on her face. She blinked, as though not comprehending what had just come out of his mouth. And he almost couldn't believe it himself – at any other time he'd have torn out his own vocal chords before being caught dead saying something so...honest, yes, but fuck if that wasn't more than he'd intended to say. Hadn't he just decided to _not_ do anything stupid? And he was pretty sure that confessing his greatest fear landed somewhere under that particular category. And now he was dangerously close to spilling everything he'd told Lily – nicely wrapped up in a package that spoke volumes more than even the longest rant ever would. One monosyllabic, simple answer – unintended though it had been – had probably given her more insight that he'd ever wanted her to have, because that would only give her hope where there was none.

Shrugging his shoulders at the look on her face, Gajeel averted his gaze, visibly uncomfortable under the scrutiny of her eyes. "Is...is that why–" she began, voice so soft it was barely audible. She swallowed. "Is that why you don't want me, then?"

He almost burst out laughing at the absurdity of the question, and once again he spoke before thinking it through. "Don't want you? _Fuck_, Shorty, I can't fucking _have_ you!"

He realized he was shouting now, his frustration getting the better of him. Arms crossed over his chest, fists clenched to stop himself from...he didn't know – he couldn't even _go_ there – the dragonslayer paced like a caged animal.

"Why?" her voice was louder this time – a hint of disbelief lacing the soft lilt of her tone.

"I have my reasons," was all he said – was all he was _willing_ to say on the matter. Turning away, he considered just walking off when her voice stopped him again. What was it about her that shot his resolve straight to hell? He usually did whatever the hell he wanted, whenever the hell he wanted to, but one word out of her mouth and he couldn't even pick up his feet.

"Is this...about you having been raised by a dragon?"

And he almost laughed again, because _of course_ Lily had been right – of course _she_ would know. She'd probably read up on it, too. Hell, he wouldn't be surprised if she knew more about dragons than _he_ did.

But, "It's more complicated than that, shrimp," he muttered, a heavy sigh pulling itself from his throat. He could feel her move behind him – a small hand tentatively grasping the material of his shirt.

"Gajeel," she said, and the possessive part of him stirred pleasantly at the sound of his name on her lips, in that soft, melodic lilt that was so at odds with his own. She inhaled deeply through her nose, as though steeling herself.

"I'm yours, you know."

And he nearly lost his will right then. One remark – one short, simple string of words and he'd come so undone she could have asked him for the world and he'd have complied. "Don't," he rasped, and it was as much a command as it was a warning.

Levy shook her head. "It's the truth – do with it what you will. Just...I'm not going anywhere, and I don't want anyone el–"

The remainder of her words were swallowed as his mouth descended on hers, the suddenness of the movement drawing a startled yelp from her lips as her back hit the wall, and a whisper at the back of his mind reminded him that she would have more than a few bruises at the rate this was going, but the apology at the tip of his tongue slithered to rest at the base of his throat like bile.

His fingers tangled in her sky-blue hair as he tilted her head towards his own, all but devouring what she was so willingly giving. He was doing exactly what he had agreed with himself not to do, but the smell of desire in the air mingled with her natural scent was driving him out of his mind. Small, tentative hands brushed against his chest, and he grumbled in appreciation, the hairs on the back of his neck rising at the small sound of approval that escaped her.

A small gasp pulled free from her mouth as his hands came to grasp her thighs, effortlessly lifting her to cover the gap in height between them. She was pliant against him, melting against him and only further stroking his ego when she should have just pushed him away and been done with him.

And then a sharp intake of breath – a hiss of discomfort as his fingers came into contact with her shoulder – had him plummeting back to reality, and then he was putting her down on her feet, pulling away with such haste she almost fell over in surprise.

"Gajeel–"

With her lips bruised and eyes dark and longing, it took all his willpower just to take a single step back, and even then he couldn't ever remember having had to do something of equal difficulty. Because the sight of her before him, panting slightly, hair messed and so undoubtedly, unquestionably _his_...

"Gaj–"

"Don't...push me, bookworm," he growled, cutting her off. He closed his eyes to clear his mind.

"Well, you're not doing a very good job of walking away," she retorted sharply, bitingly. Her breathing was erratic, and he could hear her heart as it hammered against her ribcage – the unbidden thought that he was the cause of that particular reaction sending a surge of something foreign through his system. He pushed the feeling away, opting instead to glare at the tiny mage standing before him.

"Don't fuck with me, Levy. _This..."_ he shook his head, as though he hoped to convey what he wanted with that action alone.

"This _what?"_ she asked, and there was a hint of anger in her voice now. Anger, and a twinge of hysteria. "Us? Wha–"

"I don't need a fucking distraction!" he snapped, and she closed her mouth, biting down on her kiss-bruised lower lip to keep from trembling at the sharpness of his tone. Inhaling a shuddering breath, Gajeel turned away. "There's no 'us', bookworm. Forget any fucking illusions you've got of anything else," he snarled as he began walking away. She didn't follow, but the fact brought him no relief.

"I'm not the one with illusions, Gajeel," she called after him then, voice breaking over his name, and his heart clenched at the sound, but he forced himself to keep walking away, to not look back. He was almost out of the alley now, and it was taking all he had to keep going, to not go back and fall at her feet and tell her everything.

She hadn't moved, but he could still hear her clearly. A shuddering sigh, and a sob. He picked up his pace. He had to get away. _Now_.

The last thing he heard her say was uttered so softly, if not for his hearing he would never have caught it–

"I love you, you stubborn, arrogant _jerk."_

Gajeel didn't look back.

* * *

><p>AN: Now, I'm aware there's a fandom trend going around that I would just like to say I find absolutely <em>disgusting<em>, and I would just like to emphasise that **however turned on Gajeel is in this fic, ****he would never do anything Levy didn't explicitly agree to**. Because though I like to play on the whole "dragon nature" song and dance, he's not an animal and he can control himself, even if she drives him a little crazy. So there will be no rape, no thoughts of rape or dubious consent or anything of the sort.


	5. a little help goes a long way

AN: More stubbornness and meddling Fairy Tail girls. And I may or may not have taken some liberties with script magic in this one, so bear with me.

Disclaimer: Fairy Tail and its characters belong to Hiro Mashima; I own absolutely nothing. Cover image by Rae.

* * *

><p><strong>part V.<strong>

"You look like you're on a warpath."

Ignoring the remark, Levy stomped on down the street, clutching her bag to her chest and scowling at nothing in particular, and not really caring that she was attracting stares with her glower. She was allowed to be angry once in a while, even if she didn't often let herself succumb to the feeling. And contrary to popular belief, she could become pretty irritated – especially in situations where her intellect wasn't enough to solve her problems for her, or when she couldn't crack a particularly difficult puzzle. And she usually loved puzzles – it was partly what her magic was good for, after all, but there were different kinds of puzzles. There were the easy ones that were more fun than challenging, and there were the difficult ones that put her skills to the test, but that would always fill her with confidence and satisfaction whenever she managed to figure them out.

And then there was Gajeel Redfox.

It wasn't so much a puzzle with him as it was an enigma – the man was so dastardly contradictory_,_ it was ridiculous. He would do and say things that would lead her to one conclusion, and then do a complete one-eighty on her and claim he'd meant something different. He was a mountain of contradictions and complexities, and despite the amount of time she'd spent in his presence, Levy didn't even feel close to working out what went on inside his iron skull. She'd initially pegged him as a brutish, social recluse and hadn't been able to fathom why he'd wanted to join a guild he'd done his very best to destroy. But he'd grown on her – he'd grown on them all – and the trust had come so _naturally_, she couldn't even pinpoint when she'd stopped thinking of him as anything but a companion.

And then there were the feelings, and the semi-awkward situations between people attracted to one another but uncertain of each other's respective intentions – the shy glances, the awkward touches and the lingering looks. And she'd been so _certain_...

She didn't get it. She didn't get anything when it came to Gajeel, to be honest. There was clearly something between them – there was no doubt in her mind after their last encounter, but the real question was, why was he so intent on pushing her away? Why was he being so insufferably stubborn and thick-headed?

_"Don't want you? Shorty, I can't fucking have you!"_

It made no sense. _No_ sense. Hadn't she made it abundantly clear that she was interested? That she'd gotten over the past? She'd even _confessed,_ something which, damn him and his aloofness, he'd all but _ignored._

It made no sense. _He_ made no sense, saying one thing, doing the complete opposite. Claiming he couldn't have her but not offering any kind of explanation as to _why. _Leading her on, pushing her away–

"Hey, Lev–"

"_I don't get it!"_

The outburst took Lucy by surprise, and she dropped her hand from where it had touched the smaller woman's shoulder. At the livid look on her friend's face, Lucy's expression softened. "Stubborn idiots aren't the easiest to figure out, no."

Levy clenched her fists. "It's just...I just– and then he– and he just—aargh! That..._idiot_!" She was fuming now – a rarity in and of itself, perhaps, but she was angry and needed to vent. All her thinking had given her was more questions and no answers, and it was driving her up the wall.

"Has anyone ever told you that you kind of look like a lemming when you're angry?" Lucy grinned. "It's cute."

Levy crossed her arms over her chest, shoulders slumping as she forced down a frustrated shriek. She really was attracting stares now, she noticed. Sighing, she rubbed a hand across her eyes. "I'm not usually like this, Lu. Do you see what this is doing to me?" she asked.

Lucy's smile was sympathetic. "Well, what did you expect? He doesn't exactly scream 'low maintenance', does he?"

_"No,_ but he didn't have to be such a jerk."

"He _is_ a jerk. But from what you told me, yesterday wasn't a complete failure," she remarked, a mischievous smile on her lips. "Dark alleyways, huh? Kinky."

"Lucy Heartfilia!" Levy hissed. "This is _not_ funny!"

Lucy bit down on her lip to hide her growing smile. "Not even a little bit?"

"No! Did you completely miss the part where he rejected me and took off like an ass?"

She scoffed, waving a hand at the remark. "He's playing hard to get – you can work with that. Makes it more exciting."

"You're sick."

"For enjoying a good old-fashioned drama? And this coming from the girl who gets off on _horror-novels?"_

Levy pouted, crossing her arms resolutely. "_Yes_. My personal life isn't a public exhibition, you know."

"Are you sure about that?"

She frowned. "What do you mean, 'am I sure'? Of course I'm sure! No one knows but you and Lil–" she stopped suddenly, horror slowly dawning on her. "Wait...you don't..." She shook her head. "They _don't__...know,_ do they?"

Lucy shrugged. "Depends on who you're talking about."

"Again, what do you _mean_ 'who'? The guild!"

_"Yeah, but which_ guild?"

"Fairy Tail! Who–" she stopped herself, inhaling deeply through her nose to calm her nerves. "Who else could possibly know?" She was sounding slightly hysterical now. Lucy averted her gaze. "Lucy," Levy warned.

The blonde mage grinned sheepishly. "Last I heard, Ichiya had bets going around, but that's _all,_ I swear. At least I think so," she muttered, a thoughtful look on her face. Levy blanched.

"_Blue Pegasus?_ W-why would they...why would _they_ care?" she asked, mortified. Lucy shrugged.

"Well, you do make quite the unconventional couple, and the rumour mill thrives on that kind of stuff. And you know that creep keeps tabs on all the girls in Fairy Tail – just because you're not Erza doesn't get you off the hook."

"But..." Levy could only gape. Lucy patted her shoulder, a sympathetic smile on her face.

"Don't think too much about it, Lev. But you should know, we're all rooting for you!"

The script-mage buried her head in her hands, a whine escaping her as she felt like bashing her head against the nearest wall – or any solid surface, really. It was one thing having to deal with an unusually stubborn dragonslayer – it was another thing entirely to do so while all the guilds in Crocas were watching, eagerly waiting for an update, keeping bets on what would happen, spreading rumours...

She felt her stomach heave as a thought suddenly struck her. "Luce."

"What?"

Looking up at her best friend, Levy grabbed her arms, gaze intently locked with the stellar mage. "You're not telling them what I told you. _None of it_. And I _will_ know if you do–"

"You know I won't," Lucy promised, cutting her off, a reassuring smile on her face. "I might like to gossip, and I _might_ have my hands in a few bets, _but,"_ she held up her hands, stopping her friend from the reaction she had known was coming to that particular confession. "What goes on between the two of you in private is your own business."

Levy smiled, relief washing over her. "Thank you, Lu."

"That doesn't mean you can't tell _me, _of course," Lucy said with a wink.

Levy raised a brow at that. "Oh, and _I'm_ the kinky one?" she asked, to which her friend only grinned. "But," she frowned. "Don't go expecting there'll be any more of _that_ – it's not like there's much hope now, going by the way he reacted yesterday."

Lucy rolled her eyes. "Yes, being thoroughly necked up against a wall in a dark alley _really_ drove that message home."

Levy blushed. "You know what I mean," she murmured. Lucy laughed.

"So what are you going to do about it?"

Levy shrugged, chewing on her lower lip as she considered her options. She could just leave him alone – they'd go back to the reluctant friendship they'd had before the exams. She _could_ do that, or...

"I'll have to out-stubborn him, I guess. Like you said, I _was_ kissed up against the wall in a dark alley. He could have just walked away from the beginning," she said with a shrug, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Lucy smirked. "But he didn't."

"He didn't."

The stellar mage grinned. "Tough job, though. You sure you're up for it?"

"Oh, I _can_ be pretty stubborn. And you know I don't like unsolved puzzles."

"Yeah, you're nerdy like that," Lucy agreed, earning herself a half-hearted scowl. She laughed. "Oh, come on, Lev. It's so..._you_, to compare a guy to one of your rune puzzles."

"Well, he is, of a sort. I can't seem to figure him out, anyhow."

"A pretty complicated one, then. But that just makes it more fun, yeah?"

"Of course _you_ would think that, being on the sidelines. It's not _your_ problem."

"It could be – are you asking for help?"

Levy frowned. "What do you mean?"

The grin curving along her best friend's mouth made her think of Mira. "Because if you're asking..." Reaching out, she grabbed hold of the script-mage's arm, tugging her down the street and back towards the inn. Levy blinked as she was all but dragged along.

"Luce, what–"

Lucy winked, brown eyes clever and wicked and a smile on her face that promised nothing but trouble. "Let's see if we can't get you some of that _advice __you were asking about earlier__."_

* * *

><p>In retrospect, she probably should have thought it through a bit more before accepting Lucy's proposal.<p>

"So, what's our gameplan?"

Erza crossed her arms over her chest, a determined light in her eyes that made Levy's heart drop into the pit of her stomach – a feeling that intensified tenfold when she took in all the other women seated around her. Women who had seemingly popped out of nowhere, excited grins on their faces and dangerous schemes in their eyes. Fairy Tail girls on a mission – a hazard if she'd ever known one, and a notorious one at that.

Yes, she should definitely have thought it through.

"Uh, guys–"

"I say we go on the offensive," the redhead continued, paying no heed to the tentative question. Nodding to herself, she turned to the script-mage, pointing a finger at the startled girl. "Meaning _you_ should make the next move, Levy. And be aggressive – I've read it usually works better that way. And you should probably wear something provocative."

Levy blanched. "Provocative?" she squeaked.

A snort to their left interrupted whatever Erza had been about to say, and Cana crossed her arms over her chest. "She can't just attack the guy out of nowhere – where the hell would that get her? She needs to keep her cards close and play coy – he'll come running to _her_ then," she said, smirking as she took a swig of her ale.

Levy opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off again, this time by the water mage seated to her left. "As long as Levy stays away from Gray, Juvia is happy."

"Why don't you just go home?" Lucy asked her, but was ignored by her self-declared rival.

"Uh–"

"Foolishness. She needs to make her intentions clear."

"What she _needs_ is to be aloof – playing hard to get will cater to his possessiveness. He's a dragonslayer, right? All she's got to do is be unattainable, and he'll crack like glass. Easy peasy."

"Juvia thinks Levy should profess her undying love more clearly. And stay away from Gray."

"What she needs," Lucy cut them all off, crossing her arms over her chest, "Is advice that actually _helps. _Not battle strategies or card tactics._" She rolled her eyes. _

"Guys–"

"Juvia thinks–"

"And she's interested in _Gajeel,_ Juvia. That's why we're here," Lucy cut her off, rubbing at her temples. The water mage didn't look entirely convinced, but let the comment slide, and made no further comments.

Erza nodded. "So what we should do–"

"GUYS!"

All heads turned to Levy, who had all but burst out of her seat. Hands planed on her hips, she exhaled deeply. "Thank you for your enthusiasm, and your...help, but I think I might want to do this on my own. Is that okay?"

Lisanna smiled. "I actually agree with Levy on this – she knows him a lot better than us, anyway."

Evergreen snorted. "And look how far that's gotten her – she clearly needs help, or she would have him already."

Levy opened her mouth to retort that it wasn't _quite that simple_, but was interrupted by Erza, again. "Which is why I am proposing that needs to be more _provocative."_

Cana rolled her eyes. "Oh, _please_. How would _that_ help if it's the nerdy cuteness that got him interested in the first place?" The bickering between the two intensified, and Levy felt like crawling into a hole. Had she really been so naïve as to think she could have a private personal life in a guild like Fairy Tail?

Looking at the girls around her, some arguing for their ideas while the others looked on with barely repressed amusement, she couldn't help but smile a little, despite the mortification threatening to swallow her up. They were only trying to help in their own, well-intentioned ways, which was preferable to girls hell-bent on keeping her from pursuing her crush in the first place. But no one had even so much as remarked on _who_ it was she was having trouble with, which lead her to believe it had been common knowledge for some time.

Which brought her thoughts back to the fact that she had no private life to speak of.

A hand on her shoulder had her looking up, meeting the kind eyes of the meddling barmaid she would have thought would have been the master orchestrator of the entire scheme, but who hadn't said a word since Lucy had called for the impromptu meeting. Smiling brilliantly, Mirajane spoke softly, but clearly enough for everyone to hear. "I think you should just try talking to him again, dear."

Levy blinked, surprised at the simplicity of the advice. No intricate schemes? No manipulative mind-games?

The others had fallen silent, and Mira shrugged her shoulders. "From what you've told us, his interest isn't the problem, so perhaps talking to him again will answer some questions? And if he doesn't wish to speak with you right away, well...there is always The Look."

Levy felt a smile tug at her lips. The Look, patented by Mira if she knew the barmaid, did wonders in ways of getting what you wanted. And for a girl like her, who didn't have the dangerous curves some of the women used as means of both distraction and of getting their way, her eyes were her biggest weapon.

Lucy grinned. "Now _that's_ proper advice. And who could possibly resist those eyes?"

Levy blushed despite herself, averting her gaze to the floor and her sandal-clad feet, although her thoughts were wholeheartedly focused on what Mira had said. It couldn't hurt to try, at least. She hadn't attempted The Look on Gajeel before, but she couldn't remember anyone else failing to succumb to her charms in the past. Jet and Droy were pretty much walking examples of her prowess in the art, as was Makarov.

Squaring her shoulders, the script-mage made her decision. She wanted answers, and the only way of getting them would be to speak with him face to face. Or make him speak. Either way, it was her best shot. Playing coy would get her nowhere, and it wasn't like she knew _how_ to play coy in the first place, anyway, and if she thought back to what had happened in the alley, what had gotten the most reactions out of the stubborn man had been blunt honesty – not aggressiveness.

Nodding to herself, she rose from her seat. "Alright, I'll talk to him. _But,"_ she warned, gaze sweeping across the girls seated around her, their expressions dangerously eager. "You can gossip all you want amongst yourselves, but this is a conversation I want to have in _private._ Meaning there will be __no eavesdropping. ___And don't think I won't know."_

Disappointed groans and grumbles could be heard from all around her, but she cheerfully ignored them, crossing her arms over her chest resolutely.

"Be nice, guys. We'll get the details out of her later," Lucy promised with a wink. Levy flushed a bit, but kept her back straight and her shoulders squared as she moved to exit the room their main team had been given for the tournament, and where they'd all gathered for the occasion of dissecting Levy's romantic intentions with their reclusive dragonslayer.

Making her way down the stairs to the common room, she steeled herself for what she was about to do. Or attempt to do – she didn't know if he'd even agree to talk, and if he didn't, if The Look would even work. But she needed to speak to him – _that_ she knew, even if she was uncertain about everything else.

Entering the common room, she let her gaze wander across the guild-members seated about it, drinking and chatting amiably amongst themselves. After Mira's amazing – albeit somewhat disturbing – victory in the arena earlier, as well as Elfman's surprising performance the day before, the general good mood the guild was known for had sky-rocketed, and if people had thought their celebration had been rambunctious after their defeat, after two wins in a row it seemed to have reached a whole new level of noisy, even for Fairy Tail.

"Levy!" Jet called as he caught her loitering in the doorway, and she waved back, wandering over to the table where her team was seated along with Macao and Wakaba. The previous master greeted her when she came over.

"What have you been scheming over there?" he asked, motioning to the stairs where the other women were now coming down and milling into the room, chatting animatedly.

"Girl talk, old man, meaning _none of your business,"_ Cana retorted as she came over, giving Levy a less than subtle wink as she seated herself with the men. Ignoring the card-mage, as well as the curious stares of her teammates, Levy let her gaze shift to the bar, looking for a familiar dark-clad figure but finding none. She did see Lily, however. Catching the eye of the Exceed, she excused herself from the people at the table and made her way across the room.

Pantherlily smiled at her as she came to stop by the bar. "Good evening, Levy," he greeted, tipping his glass. "I didn't see you at the arena today – were you busy?"

Not wanting to let slip the fact that she'd spent the better part of the morning beneath her covers in an uncharacteristic mood, and the rest of the afternoon before Lucy had found her and dragged her away curled up in a chair at the back of a run-down bookshop with her nose in a bodice ripper, she told him something a little less, well,_ dismal._

Scratching the back of her neck sheepishly, she grinned at him. "I found a new book yesterday that I just couldn't put down, so when I woke this morning I'd overslept."

By the look on his face, he didn't believe a word, but he nodded regardless, before motioning to the front door of the inn. "He walked off right before you came in – was headed in the direction of the south-east park, but you didn't hear it from me."

She smiled. "Of course not." Leaning over, she placed a small kiss to the top of his head. "Thank you, Lily."

He grinned. "He's an oaf at the best of times, but just keep pushing and he'll come around eventually."

She snorted. "Hopefully."

He raised a brow at that. "He's stubborn, but he's not unreasonable. And he's got a soft spot for you...but you didn't hear _that_ from me, either," he warned, eyes twinkling. Levy laughed.

"I'll take your word for it," she said with a wink, before making or the entrance. Halfway to the door, his voice stopped her.

"You want me to go with you? With everything that's happened, you're not supposed to be out on your own, especially not this late," he reminded her. She shook her head, giving him what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

"He's not gone far, right? And I can handle myself for a few minutes," she assured him. "Besides, I don't really want much of an audience, if you don't mind."

He didn't look reassured, but nodded anyway. "Alright, but be careful. And scream if you need to – he's pretty quick on his feet."

She nodded, a wry smile pulling at her mouth. "I know."

Saying her good-byes to the Exceed, she walked out of the inn and into the crisp night air, regretting immediately that she didn't think to get a jacket but deciding to keep going anyway. She didn't have time to dawdle if she wanted to catch up with Gajeel, so rubbing her shoulders to ward off the chill, she began her trek towards the park. Having studied maps of the city long before they'd even arrived, she had a vague recollection of where it was located. There weren't many people out, but enough so that she felt relatively safe, and the street-lights were lit, so as long as she kept away from the alleyways she should be fine.

The thought made her blush, and suddenly she was glad of the cold air, as she was certain every inch of her skin was bright, burning red. Shaking her head to clear it of the thoughts that had taken root, Levy tried to focus on where she was going, eyes open for any sign of Gajeel.

It didn't take too long to find him – he must have gone out just seconds before she'd come downstairs. Turning the corner of the street she was on, she caught sight of him in the distance, hands in his pockets and walking with his trademark, loping gait.

She bit her lip, weighing her options. She could approach him directly, state her business and demand that he explain himself. Erza probably would have recommended that course of action. Or she could do as she had last time, and just casually follow him until he was forced to acknowledge her presence. Which hadn't been much of a success, she reminded herself, as he'd been quite intent on ignoring her until she was all but forced to make the first move. And that had worked out _so_ well.

So maybe not a direct approach, then. He'd been quite on edge the last time, after all, and she didn't know if he'd calmed down or not, but she guessed pushing him too far, too fast couldn't be good for either of them. She might not be an expert, but she could guess from his behaviour in the alley that she was treading a rather thin line with regards to his temper. Any misstep on her part and she could ruin things between them forever.

That left her with a third option.

Breathing in deeply, Levy exhaled, steeling herself and praying no one was around to see her reduce herself to such a level of brazen disregard of someone's privacy. Pulling out her pen, she scribbled the spell across the underside of her arm, making sure she did it just right and trying not to think about what she was actually _doing._ The spell in place – the words 'STEALTH' clear in blue ink across the skin of her arm – she slunk into the darkened area of the street, a surge of satisfaction shooting through her system as the shadows shifted to visibly cling to her body, hiding her from sight and, if the extra tweaking she'd put into the spell worked the way it should_,_ effectively masking her scent.

Starting off, she kept close to the walls and at a safe distance from the dragonslayer. She'd created the spell for Juvia a while back – not knowing _what_ it had been for at the time, cheerfully naïve as she'd been – and from what she'd heard it had worked pretty well. But Gray was amazingly obtuse and didn't have the enhanced senses of a dragonslayer, so for extra precaution she made sure not to get too close.

Sneaking in the shadows like a common creep, the thought struck her that she really had no clue of what she was going to do next. It wasn't like she thought he'd suddenly break out into a long, explanatory monologue that would magically give her the answers to all her questions, although it would have been nice if that were indeed the case.

But this was _Gajeel._ And so of course things had to be difficult.

Biting her lip, she contemplated just dropping her disguise and revealing herself – and deal with the consequences, whatever they were – when he suddenly made a sharp turn into one of the dark side-alleys. And if it hadn't been for the strange determination in his step she wouldn't have thought much about it, but...it almost looked like he was purposefully heading for an intended destination, and not just wandering aimlessly like she'd thought he'd been doing.

Frowning, and fighting a curiosity that seemed to thrum along her veins like the throb of her pulse, Levy contemplated her next move. She could follow him and find out what he was doing, or she could turn back and pretend she hadn't seen him.

Who was she kidding? She was much too curious to let it go now, and besides, what if he'd noticed her, and the alley was...an invitation of sorts? The thought made her blush all the way down to her toes, but despite the fact that the logical side of her brain was reminding her of the sheer absurdity of her not-entirely-unbiased reasoning, she couldn't make herself dismiss it completely. Perhaps he'd had time to think, and changed his mind?

Chewing on her lip, she considered her next course of action for a moment before nodding to herself. Double-checking that the spell was still intact and finding it to her satisfaction, she moved to follow the dragonslayer. If he knew it was her he would let her know, but if he hadn't discovered her, she wasn't about to embarrass herself by dropping her cover too early. Caution – she was good with that. She didn't know what he was going to do in the alley, but if it was something ridiculously mundane, like...say..._relieve_ _himself_ – although he never would have called it that, but 'take a piss' really wasn't _her_ way of speaking – she wasn't going to just pop out of the shadows like a massive creep.

Almost hugging the wall, she inched closer to the mouth of the alley, careful not to make any noises and keeping as much in the shadows as she could. When she was almost so close she could take a peek, a voice cut through the quiet, startling her right out of her skin. The low rumble couldn't have belonged to anyone else – she'd recognize it anywhere – but when the words registered in her mind, she realized that it wasn't directed at _her._

"So it wasn't our doing? The kidnapping?"

A frown tugged her brows down. Kidnapping?

"Not quite, but it could work to our advantage," another, unknown voice cut through the quiet, and she recognized the unclear rasp as that of a voice-projection. He was communicating with someone?

"And how would that work?" Gajeel asked.

Laughter filled the alleyway then – mocking...almost patronizing laughter that sent chills down her spine. "Oh, little Gajeel, you really have been gone a long time. Surely you realize you're being kept in the dark for a reason? I can't reveal everything to someone I can't completely trust, yet. From what I hear, you've integrated yourself quite well with Fairy Tail. Almost a little _too_ well."

Gajeel scoffed. "You make it sound like it was easy. Damn fairies didn't take too well what I did in Phantom, but I've worked too damn hard for you to question my motives, Master Ivan."

Levy had trouble breathing as the words registered in her mind. _Master Ivan? What–_

"And my...father, does he trust you yet?" The scorn in the man's voice was so deep it was nearly palpable, and her mind reeled to catch up with the conversation, the words stumbling over each other as her brain struggled to make sense of it all.

There was a snort from the dragonslayer, and when he spoke, the naked _disgust_ in his voice nearly stopped the heart right in her chest. "The old man's easy enough to fool. Spout some righteous crap about making amends and do some dirty work and yer adopted on the spot."

She couldn't breathe – couldn't think straight. What was he _saying_?

The unfamiliar voice was approving when it spoke, and the pleasant purr turned the blood in her veins to ice. "Good, good. That's how it must be, if we are to succeed. They will not know what hit them."

And then realization descended with all the subtlety of a kick to the face.

Fairies. Father. _Makarov._ And Lucy! Lucy, who had almost been _kidnapped._ Lucy, who had just been revealed to be the target of _Raven Tail._

She shook her head weakly, disbelieving of what she was hearing. She felt strangely dizzy, like everything around her was spinning, the world as well as her thoughts – as though she was going to pass out, but she stubbornly kept herself upright, fighting the violent surge of nausea that rose in her throat. She couldn't breathe – couldn't focus on anything but the denial that reared like a vicious thing within her. This wasn't right. _It couldn't be right._

Clutching the wall, she inched closer despite the fear that had rooted itself deep in her stomach. It had to be a mistake – she had to see for herself. Perhaps she'd imagined it. Perhaps it wasn't...It couldn't...it...it just _couldn't be._

Peeking around the corner of the alley, her heart plummeted into her stomach at the sight of him, arms crossed over his chest – the picture of arrogance and superiority and all but _reeking_ of perverse satisfaction. And by his feet, a slip of paper – the method of communication, her mind added uselessly, but the thought barely registered through the numbness that had overtaken her. She couldn't think clearly – her body was frozen in place, unwilling to move another inch. Her lungs were still in her chest, while her heart pounded so frantically against her ribcage, had she been more lucid, she would have been concerned about being discovered.

He was _smiling._ He was smiling, and she _knew_ that smile, knew it better than anyone, perhaps, in the entire guild. It had haunted her nightmares for weeks – the euphoric pull of the lips that spoke of the twisted joy of hurting others, and of seeing others in pain. It was the reason she hadn't been able to _look_ at him when he'd first joined the guild, but...

But she hadn't seen it since he'd joined Fairy Tail. Not once – even in the midst of battle, when he mocked his opponents and allies alike. Those grins had been playful – the grins of a Fairy Tail mage confident in his abilities and those of his companions and nothing – _nothing_ – like the smile he'd had on his face that night he'd nailed her to the tree, the smile that was now on his face as though it was the most natural thing in the world, pulling his lips into a cruel mockery of humour. There wasn't a trace left of the man she'd fallen in love with in the Gajeel standing in the alley now, chatting with their enemy as though they were old companions, calling him _Master._..

Backing away from the alley, Levy could feel tears well up in her eyes, pressing forth as a helpless sob caught in her throat. She shook her head frantically, reaching up to grasp at her temples, as though to physically stop the thoughts that were manifesting in her mind. Memories came crashing back – snippets of conversations – and suddenly she had all her answers before her, served on a beautiful silver platter of treachery and deceit and _how had she not seen it before? _

_"–of all people __**should know better**__. So why the fuck don't–_

_"I ain't __**good**__, Levy. Not fer anyone, least of all _**_you_**__.___"_

_"–sure of yourself. __**You know **_**_nothing_**_ about me–"_

_"You have this notion that I'm this good guy."_

_No...no, no, no, no. NO! _Clutching at her head, she stumbled, and the fear of being discovered, the fear of coming face to face with those eyes and the vicious _smile_ sent her scrambling backwards. She couldn't face him – couldn't make herself look at the man she had so freely and happily given her heart, her affections and her _trust __despite their history. The man who, for all this time,_ had been part of Raven Tail, the guild bent on destroying them, working for the Master's son, deceiving them all...

Everything he'd done – everything he'd said – had it all been part of his _ruse?_ A scheme to become one of them? His willingness to partner with her in the exams, to get her to trust him again...had it all been just a scheme to gain their good faith?

Of course. Because if she trusted him – _she,_ who he'd hurt the most, and who'd had the most reason _not_ to trust him – then what reasons did the others have not to?

_"You of all people should know better. So why the fuck don't you_**?"**

A sob escaped her then despite her efforts and she stumbled, her sandal catching in one of the cobblestones and sending her sprawling. Footsteps from the alley sent a numbing surge of fear shooting through her, and she pushed herself up weakly, frantically scurrying backwards and away from the mouth of the alley, the only coherent thought in her head being the need to _get away. __Get away, get away, get away, away, away, __**away**__–_

And then he was before her, emerging from shadows that seemed to cling to him like a dark cloak, metal-studded brows narrowed as his eyes searched out the eavesdropper, killing intent like a thick odour on the air that made her choke.

His gaze met hers, and he froze, horror twisting his features as he took in the sight of her sprawled on the ground, crying and shivering like a rabbit cornered by a wolf.

_"Shorty?"_

The disbelief in his voice would have given her satisfaction, had everything been different. Had she just caught him off guard like she'd intended in the first place, and not discovered something that had broken her heart to pieces.

She shook her head, pushing herself backwards, her movements erratic and desperate. But she needed to get away from him – from those eyes watching her, shock swimming in their depths. She had to get away from the smile she was just waiting for to spread across his face – to turn his features into that of the cruel man who had hurt her, and who had revelled in her pain and her pleas for him to stop.

Pushing herself to her feet with all her might, despite limbs that threatened to give away beneath her, Levy drew her gaze away with difficulty. She refused to look at him, at the man she had come to trust with entire being – the man she would have given _everything_ for. She didn't chance a glance at him, to see if he was moving to attack. She only drew breath into her lungs, and forced back her grief.

And then she _ran_.

* * *

><p>AN: I'm not even going to try hiding what I think about Mashima's dismissal of the whole Raven TailFairy Tail debacle in this arc, but let it just be said that Gajeel's double-agent role is pretty much the basis for this fic's storyline.


	6. skulking shadows

AN: Got a lot of speculations on how this would turn out – I hope you all approve.

Disclaimer: Fairy Tail and its characters belong to Hiro Mashima; I own absolutely nothing. Cover image by Rae.

* * *

><p><strong>part VI. <strong>

**_Fuck_.**

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck – _f__uck!_

Rounding the corner, Gajeel sniffed the air, finding her scent with little difficulty and moving towards it without pausing in his step. He'd barely had time to gather his wits before she'd taken off running, away from the alley and away from him as though her life had depended on it. The shrimp was damn fast when she wanted to be, not to mention – and he _hated_ to admit it – she'd caught him completely off guard. Nevermind the fact that she was goddamn difficult to track down, being so tiny.

Growling to himself, he turned another corner, this time into a side-alley where the smell of her was concentrated rather heavily. He figured she must have chosen to hide somewhere close, going by the scent lingering in the air. He wanted to run his head into a wall. Several times. How the fucking _hell_ had he failed to notice her? How, in the seven circles of the deepest _pit_ of the underworld had she managed to slip past his defences? Questions he couldn't answer, but questions that were unimportant in the face of the greater problem:

How much had she managed to hear?

A fucking ridiculous question, probably. Going by the state of her – the tears in her eyes and the fear in her scent that was so strong it had stung his nose – she'd heard _enough._ And the fact that she'd run away from him spoke volumes about her reasoning.

She was afraid. Afraid he'd kill her for eavesdropping, probably. And who could blame her, with the cosy chat he'd been caught having with their greatest enemy? Gajeel inwardly cursed himself for his lack of caution – he'd always been taken great measures to make sure he wasn't followed to his meetings with Ivan, but somehow – somehow the bookworm had found him and_...fuck_ _her_ and her damn intellect, found a way to get past his senses. But it didn't matter how, not really. What mattered was the fact that she'd taken off, and Gajeel had vivid memories of what had gone down the last time she'd attempted the same escape in a fit of emotional distress.

Sniffing the air again, the dragonslayer stopped at the mouth of the alley he assumed she was hiding in, having no doubt reasoned that she couldn't outrun him even if she tried. The fact that she thought he would hurt her – that he _could_ hurt her_...stung. _He shook his head, a low growl escaping him. As if he hadn't already hurt her enough. His past actions against her still haunted him – the memory of her nailed to that tree, where it had used to be a source of wicked amusement, was now a constant reminder of his fucked up choices. That she could...that she could even _imagine–_

But it wasn't her fault, now was it? It wasn't like he'd been honest with her from the get-go about his pseudo-allegiance with Raven Tail. Then again, it wasn't a secret he could freely flaunt to anyone – hell, even Lily didn't know all the details. It was _his_ mission – _his_ burden to bear, and _his_ consequences when everything went straight to hell. Problem was, he hadn't really thought this far ahead with his plans – hadn't really considered _what_ he'd do when his cover was finally blown, especially not in the disastrous way it just had. He'd assumed he'd have the Master for support when the time for explanations came, but there he was, stalking the shadows of Crocas, alone and looking for the one person he'd worked his ass off not to get involved.

Fuck irony and its bloody brilliant timing to hell.

Exhaling deeply through his nose, Gajeel approached the mouth of the alley. There really wasn't much he could to but try to talk to her – try to get his explanation out without fucking up completely. And knowing Levy to be one of the more level-headed members of Fairy Tail, he figured he at least had a chance, even if it was small, and even if he didn't deserve it.

"You there, Shorty?" he called out. There was no answer from the shadows, and he frowned. Had he gotten it wrong? His nose told him she was there, but she had fooled him once already. "Oye, bookw–"

He barely had time to duck to avoid the solid block of letters as they came hurtling towards him from the shadows. Crashing into the wall behind him, the sheer impact of the damn thing had his brows shooting into his hairline. Swivelling back around, he was about to open his mouth when another round of script magic was thrown his way, this time a burning 'FIRE' that lit up the entire alleyway. He evaded that one easily – it hadn't been much of a surprise, him now being on his guard.

When nothing immediately followed, he advanced another step. "Short–"

His foot had barely touched the ground when she burst out from behind an accumulation of trash-cans, pen in hand and a spell already on its way off her tongue, "Solid script – 'BRICK'!"

He ducked again, letting the block of letters swivel past his head and land somewhere behind him with a deafening _crash._ Brows furrowing sharply, he decided enough was enough – if she kept this up some curious idiot would come running, and it wasn't really the best of situations to be caught in, especially if the idiot happened to be someone from the guild.

And being hit by one of those words looked like it'd hurt like a _bitch, anyhow. _

Advancing towards her with speed he usually reserved for his opponents, Gajeel reached for her arms, hands grabbing her wrists to keep her from writing out any more spells. His sudden move took her by surprise, and she stumbled backwards to get away, the pen falling from her fingers to clatter on the cobblestones at their feet. She struggled, but his grip around her wrists kept her from running.

"Let me go!"

"If you calm the hell dow–"

Her sharp look cut him off, and he closed his mouth with a snap. Her smiling brown eyes held such an intense look of _betrayal, _he couldn't make himself look away. There was no forgiveness in those eyes, only hurt, and it wasn't the kind of hurt he remembered from his first days in Fairy Tail, when she'd all but fled the room at the sight of him. That had been _physical_ hurt – a fear of a tangible kind of pain. The hurt in her eyes now was of a much deeper, fucked up nature, and for an agonizing second he wondered if he would ever be able to remove it.

"Gajeel, let me _go._"

The words were forced out with effort, and now he took notice of the tears welling up in her eyes as she tugged feebly at her hands. He didn't loosen his grip on her wrists as he spoke. "Shorty–"

"_No," _she ground out, voice breaking as a sob escaped her. "_Please, _just...not...not _that. _Anything but that. I'm not–I'm–" she hiccuped, shaking her head frantically. She clamped her eyes shut, breaking the hold he hadn't realized she'd had on him, and he smelled more than saw the tears as they trailed down her cheeks.

"Please, just...just _get it over with_."

She seemed so _small __suddenly, slumped b_efore him as she was, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Her wrists felt impossibly fragile in his grip, as though he could break them with a breath, and the skin was smooth and cold against his palms. Yet there was a determination in her words – an iron resolution so at odds with her physical stature, and that spoke of courage far greater than anything he could ever claim to possess. And she had just asked him to do his worst – to do something he couldn't for the fucking life of him even _think_ about doing. That she could even _consider_ the thought a possibility...

And he didn't know whether to be proud or absolutely _pissed._ Knowing neither would do him much good, Gajeel settled for something a little less, well, _him_. "Levy."

"_What?" _

"Look at me."

She raised her head, the action almost mechanical, eyes red-rimmed with tears. Her entire body shook, yet she looked him straight in the eyes, steeling herself as though expecting to find something there. Confirmation, or a contradiction – he couldn't really tell which. Loosening his hold on her wrists, he turned her small hands over in his own, before letting his arms fall to his sides. She didn't make any move to bolt, but remained where she stood before him, hands held out as though scared to pull them back. Sighing, Gajeel turned his gaze away, contemplating the best course of action. She had calmed down, at least, but how the hell was he going to broach the subject? It sure as hell didn't need any more pussy-footing, so after a moment of quick consideration, he settled for the simplest way – a direct approach.

"How much did you hear?"

Shifting his gaze back to hers, he was surprised to see her gape at him. Her eyes were wide, and the tears had stopped. She looked more dumbfounded than anything, and perhaps and little angry. "How much did I hear?" she asked, voice bordering on hysteric. "_How much did I hear?_"

Alright, so maybe more than a _little_ angry.

Her small hands fisted at her sides. "I _trusted_ you, Gajeel! I–" She stopped abruptly, biting down on her lip with her teeth. And then she did something that took him by completely by surprise.

She hit him.

"You...you _bastard_!" she shrieked, slamming a small fist against his chest. The impact barely even smarted, but the sight of her, furious beyond belief, had him rooted to the spot, and he found himself completely unable to stop her. "You lying, deceitful–!" One punch. Two.

"Rotten!" Three. Another. And another. "Asshole!" Six. Seven. Eight.

Another. "Liar..." Ten...

"Liar..." Another...

She hiccuped, her shaking hands stilling against his chest, and it was as though all the energy had bled right out of her. Slumping, she slid to the ground in a heap, reaching up to cover her head with her trembling hands, the skin raw from where she had beat at him. She hiccuped again, and the sound was so fucking _pitiful,_ if he'd been more attuned to the organ, he guessed it would have broken his heart.

But it did break something in him, watching her shrink before him like she did – watching her curl in on herself like a child, trembling. _His_ doing, and the thought made him bristle. He felt like smashing something to pieces.

He was a right fucking gentleman sometimes, wasn't he?

And he had no idea what to do. No idea how to handle the damaged girl before him. He wasn't good with these things – he was patronizing pats on the head or a slap on the back on a good day, not words of comfort or hugs and any shit like that. But she was crying, and it was _his_ fault and _his_ mistake to fix. He hated her tears more than anything – hated _anything_ that took away the smiles and the laughter that was Levy McGarden. And damn it all to hell, he had to do something, or he'd never forgive himself. _She'd_ never forgive him, and the mere thought had something tightening around his heart like a vice.

Crouching down in front of her, Gajeel hesitantly placed a hand on her head, feeling her entire body stiffen at the familiar gesture. He was known for letting his fists do the talking for him, but he hoped the gentle equivalent would work just as good. Tangling his fingers in her soft hair, he combed through it as gently as he could – a stark contrast to the usually rough disarrangement she was used to – and hoped the action would speak louder than he could ever hope to do with words.

Peeking out from behind her fingers, Levy regarded him with an odd look on her face – brown eyes full of questions. Gajeel smirked at the sight. She was curious, which was a good thing if he ever knew one. "Will you let me explain now?"

It was a defining question, and it could go either way for him. She could deny him, or she could listen, and for an agonizing moment she did neither, only continued to look at him, as though she hadn't heard the question. Her eyes held enough doubt for five lifetimes, and more questions than he could probably answer, and her entire posture screamed that she was uncomfortable. But she didn't run.

After an excruciatingly long pause, she nodded, the action a little too brusque for her usual, easy acceptance. He returned the nod with one of his own; it was probably unnecessary, but he didn't really give a shit, he just needed to...do something. Sparing a glance at their current location, he motioned towards the direction of the inn. Revealing his secrets in the middle of an ever-bustling city where there were probably ears on every corner wasn't exactly the best course of action. And thus came the second great question of the evening.

"Mind if we take this somewhere a little less public?"

He had expected fear at the question, but other than an near imperceptible narrow of her brows, her scent didn't change. And she hadn't removed his hand from atop her head. She only stared at him, as though she could discover the truth if she only looked long enough. And maybe she could. Hell if he knew.

"Okay."

And apparently, she had found whatever she had been looking for.

At her soft exclamation, Gajeel released the breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding. Nodding once, and not bothering to ask for permission, he reached down to pick her up from the ground. When she didn't resist – much to his initial surprise, as he'd thought she'd scream at him again – he lifted her to her feet.

"What, no complaints?" he asked, tone teasing despite the severity of the situation. Her body was rigid beneath his touch, and he pretended not to care as he began the trek back to his quarters, hoping Lily would be late for bed. This wasn't a conversation that needed an audience.

Levy said nothing as they walked, keeping to the alleys and out of sight of people, and she remained tense beside him until they'd reached the back of the inn. Not wanting to alert the others by sauntering through the common room, Gajeel chose the more discreet way through the window of his room that stood open on the second floor, facing out against the back-alley of the inn. Levy still said nothing, only allowed herself to be hoisted over his shoulder as he jumped up and ducked inside. The room wasn't much, but then, between him and Pantherlily, they didn't need much.

Placing the small woman down on the mattress of his bed, Gajeel stepped back, allowing her some undoubtedly much needed space as he retreated to the window. Looking out across the city – or what parts of the city he could see from the restricted view from his room – the dragonslayer tried to gather his thoughts, and to ignore the discomfort shivering along his skin like an itch.

She hadn't run, meaning she was willing to listen, and meaning she'd found something in his eyes other than evidence of his black soul and the selfish heart that went hand-in-hand with it. He was damn lucky he hadn't screwed things up more than he already had, and he was determined to set things right.

Taking a deep breath, he plunged in head-first. "When I first joined the guild, I accepted a mission from the Master. To...redeem myself, and the shit I'd done," he began. He didn't glance at her – he couldn't. All he could do was stare at the brick buildings in the alley outside, and the thin sliver of moonlight filtering in through the small flickers of sky visible from his vantage point. And when he spoke, it was with the most honesty he could ever remember putting into words. They weren't his thing – words were her area of speciality, but ironically, she was completely silent as she listened from her place on the bed as he talked. And he _talked._ More at once than he probably had in his entire life, but with a sharp and to-the-point gruffness he couldn't shake off even if he'd tried. He spoke of his mission and his job – of the challenges of keeping up appearances in both guilds, of getting close enough to gain trust but not too close so as to arouse suspicion or gain...attachments. As he said the word, he heard her inhale sharply. A bitter sort of smirk tugged at his mouth, and a sharp sting settled somewhere behind his ribcage.

"Wasn't planning on you, Shorty," he muttered, voice a low rumble in the quiet room. And it was the truth. He'd taken Salamander into the equation – considering the idiot was most likely the first to overreact if he found out. And of course he'd considered his cat, and Juvia, and even Titania, but only because he'd figured she'd be one of the few willing to actually _listen,_ if her insane sense of righteousness hadn't ordered him killed first. He'd considered quite a few, but he hadn't even thought about the timid nerd of a mage who'd trembled at the mere sight of him, and by the time the bookworm had successfully inserted herself into his equation and his life, it had been well too late.

Levy was silent for a long time, her slightly uneven breathing the only sound from her he could pick up, but after a few moments he heard her move behind him. He heard the rustle of the covers as she slid off the mattress, and the soft padding of her small feet as she moved across the carpeted floor.

She stopped. Not close enough for him to feel the warmth of her, but closer than she had been. Inhaling deeply, she spoke. "Okay."

His head snapped around despite himself, brows furrowing in surprise as he took in the sight of her. She was standing with her back straight, arms hanging loosely by her sides. Her eyes were red and swollen, but there was a resolute light in them that sent a wave of relief crashing through him, and he fought to keep his expression neutral.

"I thought–" she began, but stopped herself, biting down on her lip. Taking another deep breath, she continued. "I thought...that you'd deceived us all. That...that you'd just..." she trailed off, averting her gaze from his as she struggled with the words she was usually so good with, and the fact clearly frustrating her. She was silent for another moment, before she shook her head. "When I heard you say those things..." she trailed off, and he rolled his eyes.

"Ya weren't supposed to hear that, ya know. Secret meeting and all."

She snorted, and it was such an _unexpected_ sound coming from her, he almost chuckled. "Serves me right for eavesdropping, I guess," she mumbled.

He smirked. "Good job with that, though," he said. "I'm almost impressed."

She looked up at him then, and the light in her eyes was stronger than before, and suddenly she looked more like herself and not...not someone else. Someone he had broken.

And then she smiled. It was faint, but it was enough. "Almost?" she asked softly, and it was as though the tension had gone out of the room, and he felt the sudden and uncharacteristic urge to...he didn't know what. Hoard her. Keep her. Pull her close and never let go, fuck if he knew – he didn't do feelings very well. But instead he shrugged.

"You make a hella lot of noise, though, for being so small."

He didn't know if it was what he'd said, but she._..looked_ at him suddenly, as though something had struck her. Gajeel raised a brow at the expression on her face. "Wha–" But he didn't get to finish his question as she suddenly advanced on him, all but throwing her arms around his midsection as she buried her face in his shirt.

And then she was trembling, new sobs shaking her frame as she clung to him, nose buried in his chest as small hands fisted deeply in the fabric at his back. And he was reminded briefly of her surprising hug that day in the rain, only it wasn't that kind of hug at all. That one had been...shy, almost. Sudden and quick, as though she'd hoped to get it done before he pushed her off. Now she was clinging to him as though he'd vanish off the face of the earth if she let go.

And he had no bloody idea what to do with his hands.

"I thought–" she hiccuped, shaking her head from where it was pressed to his ribcage, her voice a barely coherent mumble to his sensitive ears. "I t-thought you'd betrayed us. That...that everything you'd said...t-that it was _true._" Another sob tore itself from her throat.

Gingerly – or as carefully as he could, being who he was – Gajeel placed a hand on her head, holding her to him in what he hoped wasn't a too awkward way as he let his remaining arm settle around her shoulders. He wasn't good with hugs. Hell, he didn't normally _do_ hugs. Only with his cat, but those were rough and more of a wrestle than anything else, and Lily could handle it. With the girl in his arms, he felt as if the tiniest amount of pressure from him could bruise or break.

She shook her head. "I thought you'd lied to me, all this time. That you'd_...used_ me," she mumbled.

Snorting softly, he tightened his hold around her shoulders. "Ya think too much, Shorty."

She laughed at that, the sound watery but cutting through her sobs like a knife, and the sound was the best goddamn thing he could ever remember hearing. Her face was still pressed against his chest, and he hadn't removed his hand from the crown of her head. Her smell had a salty tang to it, but she wasn't shaking as badly as she had been.

"I know," she murmured. "I'm sorry."

"The hell are _you_ sorry for?" he asked, incredulous.

She sniffed. "I hit you," she mumbled.

"Tch. I've had worse bug bites."

She snorted another laugh, and he felt a smirk tug at his lips at the sound. "I should be offended by that."

He shrugged. "Yer not much for kicking and beating, but ya do a hell of a job with that pen. Nearly lopped my head off."

She grinned through her tears, and he tightened his hold ever so slightly. It felt...strange, keeping her to him. A good sort of strange. _Right_. And he wanted to keep her there – to keep her to himself for his own and not let her go. She catered to his possessiveness more than she would probably ever know, but he couldn't bring himself to hate it. The man he'd used to be – the man who'd viciously bruised and broken the girl clinging to him so fiercely, with the same hands that now tried to hold her as gently as possible – would have loathed her for it. He'd have loathed _himself_ for succumbing to such an obvious weakness.

But the man he had been – Phantom Lord's famous Kurogane – had been a fucking weakling, anyhow.

Exhaling deeply, Gajeel let his forehead rest against the crown of her head. Inhaling the smell of her hair, and noting with a small smirk the lingering tang of trash-cans and dingy alleyway dirt mingled with her usual scent. He chuckled softly.

"Ya really have no idea what you do to me, do ya?" he asked then. She shook her head softly, and Gajeel snorted. "Aren't ya supposed to be clever one?"

She looked up at him through her bangs, one brow raised with a look on her face that asked if he wanted to continue that particular line of thought. He grinned, and she smiled in return, resting her head against his chest, releasing a deep breath.

"I should have put the pieces together sooner – you'd given me enough clues," she murmured then, after a lull.

"Wasn't intended."

She shook her head. "Even so – it was all there, waiting for me to put them together. And I'm usually very good with puzzles."

Gajeel smirked. "I'm a puzzle, am I?"

"The _worst_."

"That supposed to be an insult?"

She shrugged. "Maybe. I'm surprised you noticed with how dense you usually are."

He snorted. "That's original, shortstuff. Make an effort, at the very least."

Her shoulders shook lightly with a small laugh, but she didn't say anything, and for a while they were both silent. "Does Lily know?" she asked quietly at length. He didn't need more than that to know what she was referring to.

"Nah," he said. "He knows I do some stuff off the record, but nothing specific. The less people know about the shit I do, the better."

"And when everything culminates in a battle, and your cover is blown?"

He shrugged. "There's the Master. And you."

She raised a slim brow. "I'm a bit biased, though, don't you think? I'd put my money on the Master if I were you."

"Already have – a bit more than I'd have cared to wager, but I don't really have much of a choice. In too deep and all."

Her arms tightened around him at that, the grip surprisingly tight, considering her size and her twig-like arms. "Promise you'll be careful," she said, and the force of her words made his brows lift in surprise, but he snorted to cover it up.

"I thought I _was_ being careful – should check my back for sneaking shrimps more often."

A soft laugh spilled from her lips, but she didn't release her grip. For a moment, she seemed almost lost in thought. "I won't blow your cover," she promised.

"Didn't think ya would – yer not Salamander."

"Natsu will go on a rampage when he finds out if you don't tell him beforehand."

"I'll be surprised if he doesn't."

She smiled at that, before inclining her head to look up at him again, brown eyes large and full of something he couldn't quite interpret. "Thank you."

His brows furrowed. "For what?"

She shrugged. "For doing this for us. It...shows how much you've changed. That you care."

The word almost made him bristle – old habits die hard, wasn't it something along those lines? He snorted. "Yeah, well, consider it my version of Salamanders broken record of 'I'm a mage of Fairy Tail'," he retorted, and her own snort of laughter pulled itself from her nose. She giggled, pressing it into his shirt as her shoulders shook with silent mirth. Looking down at her, Gajeel felt his brows furrow as a thought suddenly struck him.

"What if I'm lying?" he asked then, and her laughter stopped immediately. "What if I'm secretly working behind the old man's back?"

Her hands fisted in his shirt, and she shook her head. "I don't believe that."

"Why not?" he pushed on, genuinely curious. "Ya entertained the idea earlier. Hell, you _believed_ it. So why not now?" he pressed.

Taking a deep breath, she slipped her arms from around him to rest her palms on his chest, pulling away enough so she could look at him – although she had to crane her neck to do so. When her gaze met his this time, they eyes looking up at him were her own – full of determination, and more trust and forgiveness than his accursed soul would ever deserve.

She smiled. "You might fool people into believing you're evil, but...being _good, _and showing affection, you just can't fake that kind of awkwardness."

He nearly spluttered. _Nearly._ "_Awkwardness_?"

She laughed. "You're awfully cute when you try to be nice, though. It's..." she shook her head, a small grin on her face. "It's...genuine. Which is why I didn't want to believe what I heard at first, but...I guess I let my feelings run away with me. Literally."

He snorted. "Fucking understatement of the decade."

She scowled at him, sticking her tongue out. "Well, put yourself in my shoes for a moment, would you?"

"Can't – too damn small."

"Gajeel!"

He grinned, canines flashing. "What?"

She shook her head. "You're incorrigible, you know that?"

"And you're just _now_ noticing?"

"What I _meant_ was," she continued, ignoring him. "When you joined the guild I...looked for reasons not to trust you, to fear you, but...I couldn't find any back then – you didn't make it easy, saving me and saying confusing things." The last part was muttered under her breath, but he caught it regardless. Levy shook her head. "I guess all that happened just kind of brought that line of thinking back, and I overreacted."

He didn't say anything to that – only continued to look at her. Tilting her head to the side a bit, her brows furrowed slightly, as though a thought had struck her. He was about to open his mouth and ask why she was looking at him like a weirdo_,_ when she surprised the ever-living crap out of him for the third or fourth time that night – he'd lost count. Rising to the very tips of her toes, she tentatively placed her lips against his, hands grasping the front of his shirt to keep herself steady. It was quick and chaste and so very, very..._her_. Everything their last kiss hadn't been, but that one had been mostly _him_, and where Levy gave freely with all her heart, Gajeel _took._

Which was why, when she pulled back with a blush on her cheeks, he was quick to follow, covering her mouth before she'd had time to catch her breath. A squeak of surprise caught in her throat, swallowed as he claimed her mouth with his. It wasn't quite as fervent as the one in the alley, but the situation was completely different, and he was a lot more in control of his actions. Her nose was cold where it nudged softly against his, and she fumbled slightly, uncertainly, with the hands curled into the fabric of his shirt. Her nervousness had him smirking against her lips, and he pulled away enough to look at her. The blush on her cheeks was prominent against the blue of her hair, and he could hear her heart hammering against her chest. There was a lull where neither of them spoke.

Finally, Gajeel shook his head, a wry smile tugging the side of his mouth upwards. "You trust too easily, Shorty. Anyone ever tell you that?"

She smiled softly, shrugging her shoulders. "Everyone needs someone to trust in them – I try to be that person."

He snorted. "Hell of a risk, that."

She shrugged again, averting her gaze to her hands where they lay between them. "It's worth it," she murmured softly, almost to herself. "In the end, it's always worth it. I'd rather risk everything for something, than trust no one and gain nothing." Placing her head on his chest, she closed her eyes, a heavy sigh escaping her as she leaned against him.

"Let me take that risk for you, Gajeel. Please?"

Her voice was little above a whisper, but he caught it clearly. Gripping his shirt with her hands, Levy rested her weight against him. Her soft question hung in the air between them like a lead weight. Gajeel exhaled deeply, feeling all the air run out of him as he stood there, half-holding her to him in the utter silence of the small room.

After everything he'd done, she still trusted him. Despite everything he could still do – everything that could happen in the future – she was willing to take the risk. One question remained, however.

Was he?

* * *

><p>When Lily came inside some hours later, tipsy by the slight wobble in his step, Gajeel was seated against the wall, idly chewing on some bolts he'd taken out of the bathroom sink. The Exceed gave him a strange look, and was about to open his mouth when the dragonslayer cut him off with a sharp shake of his head, motioning to the nearest bed.<p>

Raising his eyes to see what his partner was looking at, Lily's brows went up at the sight of the small form tucked underneath the ragged blanket, rising and falling softly with the even breaths barely discernible even in the quiet room. Locks of vibrant blue peeked out from the fabric, along with a small, sandal-clad foot, but Gajeel doubted his cat would have expected anyone else.

Rising to his feet, he motioned for his partner to follow as he slipped out of the window and onto the roof outside. Closing it after Lily had exited, he sat down heavily, leaning his back against the outside wall of their quarters. A long moment of silence passed between them, where neither spoke. Finally, Gajeel turned his gaze to the Exceed.

"You're quiet."

Lily shrugged. "Just thinking about what to say, actually. That wasn't exactly what I was expecting to see," he admitted. "But it sure explains why those boys of hers were losing their heads downstairs when I left."

Gajeel smirked. "Did you tell 'em? I'm assuming she talked to you before she went looking – wouldn't have found me so easily if she hadn't," he remarked, tone mildly accusing as he regarded his partner. Pantherlily smirked.

"I might have let slip the direction you were heading in, yes. But no, I didn't tell them anything – they'd be running down your door this very moment if that were the case. I think Lucy concocted some kind of explanation for her absence."

Gajeel nodded almost absently, trying – and failing – to keep his thoughts from dwelling on the fact that the bunny girl apparently trusted him enough with her friend to refrain from mentioning anything to the two idiots. He didn't quite know what he thought about that.

"So, is there a reason she's asleep on your bed and not in her own?" Lily's tone was bordering on a warning. Gajeel shrugged.

"She fell asleep – I put her there."

His cat raised a brow at that. "Do I want to know what you've been doing to wear her out that much? I'm hoping for your sake it was just your general presence that exhausted her."

Gajeel smirked wryly, looking up at the night sky overhead. "I ain't that kind of bastard, Lily."

"But a bastard of a different kind?" the Exceed asked, crossing his arms. His brows were furrowed, and Gajeel almost laughed at the ease in which the cat could read him.

"Definitely."

Tilting his head to the side, Lily regarded the dragonslayer closely. "Does this have anything do to with what we talked about the other night? The deal you have with the Master?"

Gajeel exhaled deeply through his nose. "Yeah."

"Did you tell her?"

He nodded. "Sort of. Had to, actually. She...overheard some shit she wasn't supposed to hear."

Lily hummed. "I take it that didn't go very well, by the look on your face."

Gajeel snorted. "Went fucking splendidly. Made her cry at least three times."

"But she's alright now?"

The concern in his partner's tone almost made him smile. "Aa. Shorty's tougher than she looks."

Lily snorted. "I could have told you that."

Gajeel waved him off. "Already knew."

Neither of them spoke for another lull. Gajeel chewed on a bolt, idly rolling another between his fingers. "So...what now?" Lily asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he stood by his friend, looking out across the alleyway. "You've got a pretty girl asleep on your bed who'd give pretty much anything for you, and who is still here despite everything. What are you going to do about it?"

When his partner didn't speak, Lily continued. "You need to make a choice, you know – either you push her away for good, or you let her in. But it's one or the other, Gajeel. There's no middle ground, not with so much on the line."

Gajeel didn't reply, letting Lily's words sink in as he twirled the remaining bolt in the palm of his hand, brows furrowed in thought. One or the other. Either or. Who would he choose to protect? Her? Or his own black heart?

Levy was Fairy Tail in a nutshell – trust and forgiveness despite just about anything. She was light in the darkness, and every other fucking clichéd metaphor he could possibly pull out of his ass. An existence with her was an existence devoid of the loneliness the Master had warned him about when he'd first joined the guild.

"_I'm not saving you. I'm just showing you the path to tomorrow."_

The path to tomorrow, but which path to choose? Happiness could be taken away just as easily has it had been gained. Happiness meant caring – meant sacrifice, and a gamble he had done his very best to _avoid._ The question was – had he already started down that path when he joined Fairy Tail, regardless of his mission? Was it too late to turn back? Did he _want_ to turn back?

Happiness...or complete detachment?

Looking towards the window, thoughts on the bookworm asleep on his bed like it was the safest place in the world when she'd just hours earlier run from him with fear for her own life, Gajeel made his decision.

* * *

><p>AN: Oh, I bet you just <em>love<em> me know, but my fondness of cliffhangers shall not be tamed. I'll try not to keep you waiting too long this time, though I must say you've been very patient with me thus far with this story.


	7. the path from here

AN: Because between the two of them, figuring things out isn't going to be a walk in the park, but it's a good thing they're both too stubborn to give up.

Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail – Hiro Mashima does. Cover image by Rae.

* * *

><p><strong>part VII.<strong>

She woke to the smell of metal.

_Wait a minute. _Her blankets didn't smell like metal, meaning this wasn't her bed. Meaning she'd fallen asleep somewhere else. But–

Oh. Right. Gajeel.

…

…

Gajeel!

Bolting upright, feet tangled and vision blurred with sleep, Levy took in her surroundings, and found–

Nothing.

Blinking, she rubbed at her eyes to clear them, noting that she was definitely in Gajeel's room, but also, that neither dragonslayer nor Exceed were present. She frowned, glancing towards the window and the rays of sunlight filtering in through the partly closed curtains. It was day already, and it had to be at least noon, for the sun to be up so high. What–

Oh. Of course – the games would have begun by now. That's where they'd have gone. Being a participant meant staying in or near the arena during all the battles, after all. And Lily would be there for support, as always. And as for her...well, she was snorting away the day in someone else's bed.

_Wonderful. _Rubbing at her face, noting with a whine the distinct texture of dried drool on her chin, Levy untangled herself from the blankets, mind reeling to catch up with the embarrassing fact that she'd not only fallen asleep, she'd taken his bed _and_ drooled all over his sheets. Running a hand through her hair, she grimaced at the feel of it – and even more so when she noticed the _smell._ When was the last time she'd taken a shower? She smelled like...trash. Quite literally, too. Wh–

Oh. Of course she smelled like garbage – she'd been hiding in it the night before. After she'd gone out looking for Gajeel, and then...And then she'd gone and discovered what was probably the most dangerous secret the Master was keeping from them. And Gajeel was a double-agent for what was quite possibly the darkest guild in Fiore.

...the day was just getting better and better.

Ignoring the nausea and the worry that suddenly deemed it prudent to violently attach itself to her heart, she tried to calm herself. He was doing fine – they'd know if he wasn't. He'd have _told_ _her_ if he wasn't...wouldn't he? And he'd been doing the double-agent thing it for a while, too – he'd gotten along fine without her concern, and she wasn't going to bother him with it now...even if it was trying to eat her alive. Pinching the bridge of her nose, Levy slipped off the bed and shuffled towards what she assumed was the bathroom. Catching a glance at herself in the mirror, she felt another ugly grimace tug at her face at her appearance – hair a wild bird's nest and eyes still heavy with sleep. She must have been near-comatose while she slept – she looked like she'd been out for _days. _She hoped she hadn't snored...

Ignoring the blush spreading across her cheeks at the ridiculous thought, she mentally slapped herself – because, really, what a thing to be concerned about when there was clearly bigger problems brewing! Shaking her head, she closed the door behind her. She really had to pee, and freshen up a little – there was no way she was venturing outside looking like she'd...she didn't even want to _think_ along that direction. If she met one of the girls...or Jet and Droy...

Oh..._no_, that wasn't going to go by well, was it? They were probably worried out of their _minds,_ and jumping to all sorts of wild conclusions...And she couldn't very well tell them she'd spent the night in _Gajeel's_ room – no matter how innocently, or that the only thing she'd done was drool all over his blankets – they'd go absolutely ballistic.

"Alright, Levy – think. Need an excuse, need an excuse..." muttering softly to herself, she paced around the small bathroom, absently chewing on her nails.

This wasn't good. Well, no, that wasn't entirely true. Things in general were good now – Gajeel was starting to make sense, and the...thing...whatever between them was moving forward, albeit slowly. But it was progress, at least. It was good. Her _current_ predicament, however...

Well, it wasn't that far to her room, was it? It was just...on the other side of the building, down the stairs and...through the common room. Which was most likely full of people already. Full of perpetual gossips who wouldn't keep quiet even if she bribed them.

Just...wonderful.

A thought struck her then, and she grinned, exiting the bathroom and moving towards the far end of the room. Of course! She could use the window – they'd come in through it the night before to avoid attention. It was perfect!

...except that it was located on the second floor, and she wasn't a dragonslayer. Nor much of a climber, and if she fell from that height...Frowning, she chewed on her lip. The possibility of a broken back or eternal humiliation? _Choices._

She was spared the decision, however, by the door to the room swinging open behind her.

"Oh – you're awake," Lily greeted as he came inside, pushing the door closed behind him. "You looked like you'd be sleeping for a while still when we left."

Levy felt her cheeks warm at the remark and tried not to look too embarrassed. 'Tried' being the operative word. "Did you try to wake me?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I proposed the idea, but Gajeel wanted to let you sleep...just don't tell him I told you that," he said with a smirk, before cocking his head to the side. "Would you rather we had woken you?"

She shook her head. "That's alright – I'll get the next fight, yeah? I'm just embarrassed I took his bed – where did he sleep?"

She could swear Lily's eye twitched at that, and he grumbled something about not wanting to talk about it and 'stubborn dragonslayers' as he trudged towards the bathroom. She hid a small smile behind her hand, resisting the urge to pry. His next comment drove all such thoughts from her mind, though.

"The Master wanted to talk to you, by the way," came the voice from the bathroom. "Downstairs. I told him I'd get you."

Levy frowned at that, trying to ignore the feeling of a fist-sized lump settling somewhere in her stomach. And the fact that the Master had sent _Lily_ to get her. "Makarov does?"

The Exceed nodded as he came back out, a small towel in his paws. "Didn't look like it was anything serious, but you can never really tell with him, can you?" he asked. She attempted what she hoped was a brave smile, and by the look on his face, failed spectacularly. He frowned. "Do you have anything to be worried about, Levy?"

And he couldn't have phrased her thoughts better – really, he couldn't, and he wasn't even aware of it, either. After all, Lily didn't know what had happened – didn't know about the information she had unwittingly stumbled across, and had just about as much an idea of what the Master wanted to talk to her about as Levy had of whether or not she was in trouble.

"Levy?"

Inhaling deeply, she allowed her gaze to drift towards the doorway.

"That's just it – I don't know."

* * *

><p>It had taken her a few minutes to gather enough courage to go downstairs – as well as another few trying to tame her hair and wash the sleep off her face – and by the time she'd reached the bottom of the stairs to the common room she was physically shaking.<p>

It wasn't that she thought the Master would be _angry_ – Makarov rarely showed anger towards his children unless they were intentionally endangering themselves...although on closer thought, she was kind of doing that, wasn't she? Knowing what she did put her in more danger than she should reasonably be in, and if not angry, she guessed the old man was at least a little worried. But what she was most concerned about was what Gajeel would say. That the Master knew was evidence enough that they had talked...that Gajeel had told him about her discovery. But what would he say? He hadn't said much the night before after she'd asked him to stop pushing her away...

...then again, she'd gone and fallen asleep on him, hadn't she?

She shook her head in a vain attempt at ridding herself of the embarrassed blush threatening to break out across her cheeks. Again, there were more important matters to worry about, like the meeting she was heading to...

A frown tugged at her brows as she considered what could happen. Would he tell her to stay out of it, despite everything? To forget what she'd heard, what he'd told her, and mind her own business? If the Master was behind him on that, she had no choice but to obey. And if he felt she was endangering his mission by knowing...what else could she do but stay away? The last thing she wanted was to compromise his work, but...but she couldn't just _forget._ Even if he told her to, there was no way she was going to be able to just back away. She was too stubborn, for one. And then there was the fact that she was shamelessly, incomprehensibly, head over heels in love with the man.

No, she couldn't back down – she _wouldn't_. He wouldn't push her away – she'd...she didn't know what she'd do if he tried, but as she approached the room Lily had said the Master was waiting in, Levy felt she would do just about anything_._ So, shoulders squared, back straight and with a determined light in her eyes, the script mage strode across the corridor, pushed the door open and stepped inside without preamble. It was a simple enough side-room – no doubt used for storage on regular days when the inn wasn't occupied. Now it made its use as a makeshift office for Fairy Tail's eccentric guildmaster.

"Ah, Levy my dear, there you are," the kind and familiar voice greeted her upon her entrance, and she put on a smile as she closed the door behind her. Makarov was sitting on the table in the middle of the room, books and knick-knacks strewn about, making it look very much like his office back in Magnolia. And beside the Master, half-sitting, half-leaning against the desk with his arms crossed over his chest – the picture of casualness had it not been for the tension in his stance...

She attempted another smile, but almost grimaced at how fake it felt. She was a horrible liar. "Master," she greeted. The old man smiled at her, motioning to the chair sitting innocently in front of the desk, and she sat down diligently, eyes raised and trying not to think of how much it reminded her of an interrogation.

Inhaling deeply, Makarov regarded her with a look that made her feel like she was five years old and under suspicion of stealing from the guild larder. "How are you doing, my girl?" he finally asked.

She shrugged, a genuine smile tugging at her lips at the warmth in his voice. "Fine," she said simply, not daring a glance at Gajeel. Makarov nodded, and was silent another moment before speaking.

"I'm not going to beat around the bush, Levy. I've come to understand you're in possession of sensitive information not meant for your ears."

It wasn't a question, but she nodded regardless, resisting the urge to drop her gaze. She wasn't five. "Yes."

"And you are aware of the danger this puts you in?"

She nodded again, brusquely, swallowing the lump that had settled in her throat. "Yes."

Makarov crossed his arms. "And you are aware that this information could mean Gajeel's life if it gets out?"

The thought made her nauseous, but she steeled herself and nodded. "Yes." Wanting to grimace at how weak her voice sounded, she bit her lip in stead. Gajeel still hadn't said anything, and his gaze was firmly on the floor in front of him, brows furrowed in thought. Makarov sighed.

"I am not belittling your intelligence, my dear, by asking you this – I am merely making sure the severity of the situation is known to you."

She shook her head. "It's alright – it's my fault, anyway, for...discovering it in the first place. I shouldn't have...done what I did."

At that, a smirk tugged at the Master's lips, and he shot the iron dragonslayer what could only be described as a sly look. Gajeel's eye twitched, but he refused to acknowledge the gesture, and if she hadn't been quite so preoccupied with being nervous out of her mind, Levy might have felt a stab of satisfaction that her stealth had been such a success. She might even have rubbed it in a little, like the Master had undoubtedly done before she'd arrived.

Of course, considering all the trouble her sneaking had gotten her into, it was probably good that she didn't rub it in.

Sighing, Makarov turned his gaze from Gajeel and back to the script mage, a deep frown etched on his face as he regarded her through narrowed brows. "If my son discovers this relation you have...you will both be in danger," he said. Gajeel snorted at that, finally looking up.

"I told you already, old man – it's not a question of 'if'. He'll know before _this_ guild knows – the question is how the hell I'm going to explain this shit."

Levy tried to ignore the way her heart did a leap in her chest at his words. That meat he wasn't going to push her away. He'd acknowledged the...relation, as the Master had called it. He was just wondering how to explain it – _that_ was what they were going to talk to her about. They weren't going to make her back down, or forget what she knew. They were going to make a strategy! She felt a smile tug at her lips. Well, she was a tactical person. And a woman, to boot. If they needed a strategy...

"Does he know about your history with Fairy Tail? When you were in Phantom, I mean," she interjected suddenly, making two sets of eyes swivel sharply in her direction. Gajeel blinked, before snorting.

"'Course he does. Bastard did his research before recruiting me."

She smiled, shrugging her shoulders. "Then he should have a vague idea who I am – if not by name then by what you did." She saw him bristle at that, but continued. "Why don't you just say it's another ruse to gain our trust? A drastic measure – we were getting suspicious of you being such a recluse, and what better way to gain the acceptance of the others, than by worming your way into the heart of the one person with the least reason to trust you? If _I_ trusted you...what reason would the others have not to do the same?"

Neither man had anything in reply to that, only continued to look at her with expressions hovering somewhere between stunned surprise and heavy contemplation – for the Master, at least. Gajeel looked like a fish out of water. Levy smiled innocently, shrugging her shoulders again.

"And as for _me_...I'm too blinded by my feelings to notice anything suspicious about you. After all," she said, with a small smirk. "I'm just a weak Fairy Tail mage."

Stunned to silence, neither man spoke for a moment, before Makarov's face broke into a wide smile, and a small chuckle escaped him. "Clever girl." Glancing towards the dragonslayer, the older man raised a brow. "What do you think, Gajeel?"

Gajeel closed his mouth with an audible snap, brows furrowed in concentration as he regarded her closely, before a small smirk tugged the corner of his mouth upwards. "Sounds like a plan."

Levy grinned up at them, pleased she had been able to contribute, as it meant she wouldn't be a complete burden. Making it one less reason for him to be an idiot and exclude her from his life.

Point, Levy.

"Alright then," Makarov interrupted, rising to his feet. "I have to admit I'm not entirely thrilled about this new development." He raised a brow at Levy – the patented 'troublesome child' look he usually adopted around Natsu evident on his face – but there was a warm smile that took the edge off it. "But what can an old man do in the face of young love but encourage it?"

Levy smiled at that, quite unable to resist as she took in the positively sour look that had broken out on Gajeel's face, but he kept his mouth shut – she assumed he'd had a talk with the Master about it already and had been teased enough.

Makarov jumped down from the table, already heading for the door. "I assume the two of you have some talking to do." Turning to regard them, he fixed them with a warning look. "There will be no mischief in here, though. Makeshift or not, this is still my office!"

Levy shook her head at his antics, watching as he slipped out of the room before turning her gaze to Gajeel. Her smile brightened in attempted levity, and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. He said nothing, though; only continued to lean against the desk, watching her intently. The smirk from before was gone, replaced by a troubled look that made almost all the doubts she'd had earlier come crashing back. Was he having second thoughts?

She bit her lip, quickly contemplating her options before deciding what to do. Pushing herself up and out of the chair, she crossed the two steps between herself and the desk and came to stand before him. He still didn't move from where he stood – half-sitting, half-leaning against the desk. Not to stop her, but not to pull her closer either. Forcibly pushing away the doubt that was creeping into her mind, Levy steeled herself. Well, if he was going to be _difficult..._

"Are you being stubborn again?" she asked.

He smirked at that, although it was more rueful than the ones she was used to. "And if I am?"

She pouted, crossing her arms over her chest and pinning him with her best glare. "You know this means including me in your life, right?" she asked, finding his gaze. He turned his away, much to her displeasure.

"Aa."

"Please curb your enthusiasm."

His head snapped back. "That wasn't what I meant," he growled. She rolled her eyes.

"Could have fooled me."

He sighed in frustration. "Damn it, Levy – take this seriously, would you?" he snapped. She raised a brow.

"I _am_ taking this seriously – what makes you think I'm _not_? I've been taking things seriously from the start – you're the one who kept pushing me away," she reasoned.

He snorted. "Fat good that did me."

She grinned. "Giving up?"

He glowered. "This ain't a contest, Shorty."

"I know," she said, smiling. "It's just felt a lot like one. And you weren't letting me win."

"Like you could."

"Totally just _did_."

Metal-studded brows narrowed sharply. She stood her ground. A growl escaped him, along with a sigh. "You do know how much trouble this is going to give me?"

She grinned despite the twinge of worry. "Yes," she said, honestly, before taking another step forward so she was almost touching him. "But you're getting _me_ as well – doesn't that count for something?" And she gave him her best doe eyes.

He snorted, shaking his head in exasperation, but there was a smirk on his face. "You're really something, Shorty, you know that?"

She grinned. "I've been told I'm pretty 'amazing', yes."

He regarded her for a moment, a strange light in his eyes, and she was about to open her mouth to say something when he surprised her by reaching for her hand and pulling her towards him, and a squeak of surprise escaped her as she almost collided with his chest.

And then his nose was in her hair, and the only sane thing she could think of was that_ she probably still smelt like trash..._

"Don't you dare do anything stupid," he growled against her ear then, and the sound was more of a rumble than actual words, but she understood clearly enough. Nodding softly, almost hesitantly, as though any sudden movements on her part would have him pulling away, she reached her arms around his midsection, burying her face in his shirt.

"I won't. I promise."

"I mean it, Levy – no heroics. You'll stay out of it, if things go bad."

Her brows furrowed at that, and her grip around him tightened. "I won't promise _that."_

He growled, and was about to speak when she cut him off. "No," she said. "Let me speak. I promise I won't do anything intentionally _stupid,_ like reveal your secret or endanger your mission. But if things go _bad_, I'm going to be there whether you like it or not."

His chest rumbled beneath her head, but she pushed on, interrupting him again. "And _that_ I promise, even if you were to push me away. Even if you broke things off, I'd still be there, and I'd fight, and I'd be by your side, because I'm a Fairy Tail mage, and you, you _stubborn_ idiot, should know by now what that means."

He didn't say anything to that, and she exhaled the breath she had been holding, trying not to dwell on the fact that she was shaking like a leaf. "So...so it doesn't matter what you do now – I'll still be here. I'm in too deep, and I won't back out – just try me. I _dare_ you," she added for good measure.

He snorted at that. "You dare me?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I'll...I'll out-stubborn you."

"You did that a long time ago, shrimp," he grumbled. She felt a smile tug at her mouth, and she hugged him tighter, pushing her nose into the fabric of his shirt. He smelled like his sheets. It was a good smell.

"What's so funny?" he asked at the chortle that escaped her. She shook her head.

"I was just thinking about where I woke up this morning," she said. He snorted.

"You sleep like the dead, if you were wondering."

She pinched him, making him jump slightly with a curse. She grinned. "I wasn't, but _you_ didn't even try to wake me – so whose fault was that?"

He didn't reply, but didn't release his hold on her, either. She smiled. He was good to hug – all strong, sinewy arms and an all-enveloping warmth. Of course, she'd never tell him that – he might stop doing it. But for a few blessed moments, he did nothing, and there was a comfortable silence between them as they stood there in the cramped office. Inhaling deeply, Levy smiled against his chest.

"I love you, you know," she said softly. Honestly, and wondering at the ease of which she could speak the words. His hold on her tightened a fraction and he stiffened slightly in her arms, but he remained silent. Of course, didn't expect him to say anything, and frankly, she didn't need him to. That he was holding her at all was statement enough for her. Words were her thing, after all – actions were his, and she would never demand anything more.

"You smell like garbage."

…

"You're an ass sometimes."

He snorted. "Just being honest."

She snorted a laugh, unable to find it in herself to be insulted at the remark. It was such a Gajeel thing to say, after all. Honest, yes, but oh, so wonderfully inappropriate and borderline rude. "And as much as I appreciate it, I didn't have the opportunity to shower this morning, as _someone_ neglected to wake me, and when I woke up I didn't have time because the Mast–" she stopped, blinking. She'd pulled away so she could look at him, but there was a strange expression on his face. "What is it?" she asked. His brows furrowed sharply, and he shifted his gaze to the side and away from hers.

"What you told the Master...the plan...was that what you thought when you found out? That that was the reason I'd..." he trailed off, voice gruff and strangely uncertain. She blinked, before her gaze softened, and she placed a hand on his arm.

"At first," she confessed, smiling ruefully as she averted her eyes. She should have known this was coming. "Can you honestly blame me?" she asked, looking up at him. He averted his eyes again with a grunt, scowling at nothing in particular. She smiled fondly at him, cocking her head to the side as she tried to catch his gaze despite his attempts at looking anywhere but her eyes.

"It doesn't matter now, though," she said with a shrug. "I know you didn't. And I'm here, aren't I? That's got to count for something," she teased, hoping to lift the tension that had settled around them. He still didn't say anything, but he lifted his eyes to look at her. It was clear he hadn't entirely warmed up to the idea of including someone other than Lily into his life, but she was determined not to back down. She hadn't come this far for nothing, and certainly not to just walk away.

"So..." she began, after a moment of heavy silence. "What do we do now?"

It was loaded question, and she wasn't entirely sure herself if she was talking about the unforeseeable future or their immediate situation – both seemed equally important, anyway. The question was met with more silence from the dragonslayer, and she was about to demand he reply with something other than narrowing his brows when he surprised her by speaking.

"If we let the others know, and they don't throw me out on my ass for it...it could work with Ivan," he said, finally, and despite the subject at hand, Levy felt a blush rise in her cheeks.

"I think the guild already knows, Gajeel."

A raised brow was her answer, and she shook her head. "I honestly don't want to know how they found out or _why_ they've even discussed it in the first place, but it's been common knowledge for a while, I think...at least that there's something going on."

He snorted. "Damn meddlers."

She smiled at that. "But they're already alright with it – isn't that good?"

He looked away. "Until the truth comes out."

"You'll have both me and the Master on your side then."

"And if some shit happens and I'm on my own?"

"That won't happen."

He snorted. "Anything could happen, Levy. Hell, even I don't know what Raven Tail is planning – I'm still under suspicion, remember? What if the ruse works too well and when the entire thing backfires, the idiots decide I wasn't just deceiving them all; I was using _you_, just because I could?"

She shook her head, but he interrupted her. "Levy, it's not simple shit you're mixed up in – it's a _war_. The possibility that I'll be thrown in with the rest of Raven Tail when everything goes to hell isn't a joke. I'm warning you now; don't think it'll be easy."

She nodded. "So I've been warned, but I'm still standing by your side if that happens. I don't care what the others might say."

He regarded her closely, brows furrowed deep. "And if they don't believe you?"

She squared her shoulders. "They will have to. I believe you, and that's going to have to be enough."

He raised a brow. "The fairies are pretty stubborn."

"So am I."

He smirked at that. "Aa, but that doesn't mean they'll take your word for it – especially not if they think you've been tricked."

She cocked her head to the side, contemplating his words. What he was saying was logical – knowing the penchant of jumping to conclusions that some of the members of the guild had – mainly Natsu – things could go really bad if only parts of the truth came out and Gajeel was believed to be solely a member of Raven Tail. And if that was the case, she could defend his name until her face was as blue as her hair – she'd get nowhere if they thought she was biased by her feelings. And if the entire guild turned against him...

"Then they'll just have to throw me out as well," she said.

Gajeel shook his head. "It ain't that simple."

"I'll make it that simple. If you go, I go."

"You're impossible."

"Oh, _you're_ one to talk, Mr. I'm-going-to-handle-everything-on-my-own-so-you-all-better-step-out-of-my-way?" When he still didn't look convinced, she pinched him again, making him jump.

"Oye, quit doing that!"

"Stop looking like it's the end of the world, and I might consider it."

He glared at her, and she grinned right back at him. If he thought he was getting rid of her he had another thing coming. And she could take care of herself just fine, thank you.

"I know."

She blinked, before flushing slightly, realising she had spoken out loud. He smirked. "But I'd beat the shit out of anyone stupid enough to go after you, anyway."

She raised a brow. "That's...kind of sweet...I think?"

He snorted. "It ain't sweet – it's fact. You're my woman now, aren't you?"

She grinned. "I guess I am."

"First you give me hell, and then you _guess_, Shorty?"

"Alright, I'm your woman – happy now?"

He smirked. "Damn straight. Get it right if you're going to be so damn stubborn."

She stuck her tongue out, a laugh escaping her as he dipped down to catch her mouth, and she wondered briefly if he would always be this unpredictable with his kisses. It didn't matter, of course. She liked it. It wasn't rough, like the first, or timid like the one she'd initiated, and nothing like the last. It was...playful, almost. His nose nudged against hers as he nipped at her lips, and she smiled against his mouth. It was difficult to remember the danger she was in when he was kissing her like that, but always too reasonable for her own good, she couldn't lose herself completely.

"The Master will throw a fit if he finds us," she murmured.

"He left – he knew the risk."

She laughed at that, shaking her head as she ducked her head away, avoiding him and earning a growl for her efforts. She met his narrowed gaze with her own. "Even so, he'll come looking if we don't come out soon."

He continued to look at her, and she raised a brow, daring him to question her reasoning. As much as she...appreciated being alone with him, the Master's office – makeshift or not – was not a place she wanted to be caught doing...things one just didn't do in one's guildmaster's office.

Gajeel grumbled, relenting under her gaze, and untangled himself with obvious irritation, looking very much like a jilted...cat. She hid her smile behind her hand. For being such a gruff man, he was oddly cute sometimes.

As he moved to the doorway, she was about to follow when his voice stopped her. "Levy."

His hand was on the handle but his back was still turned to her, and the severity in his tone had her heart dropping into her stomach. She blinked. "What?"

There was a pause before he spoke. "I...you know. _Fuck_ – nevermind." He turned the handle down, grumbling under his breath. She grinned at his back.

"I love you too, you dork," she said, her grin widening as he swivelled around, incredulity and embarrassment clear on his face, and she could swear his ears were bright red beneath his hair.

"I wasn't – I didn't – Fuck! I didn't say..._that_."

She grinned. "Relax, Gajeel. I won't tell anyone," she teased as she walked up to him. Feeling bold, she reached out, fingers finding his and curling around them. He stiffened at the touch, but he didn't snatch his hand away like she'd expected. She smiled up at him, noting the look of awkward discomfort that had stretched across his face. She tightened her grip.

"I'm not going anywhere," she emphasised again, and she meant it both as a promise and as a warning. It was a statement – simple fact. He could do whatever he wanted, but she could butt heads with the greatest in a battle of wills. This was her daring him to try her.

He shook his head. "So you said," he remarked, but despite his glaringly obvious discomfort with the gesture, moved his hand so it gripped hers. It was...awkward. And she loved it.

Grinning brilliantly, she remained by his side as he pushed open the door, her hand gripping his tightly. He stopped in the doorway though, his entire posture screaming reluctance. And she understood why very well – this would change everything.

"They're going to throw a damn party, aren't they?" he asked.

"Mm, probably."

"Do we have to be there?"

"The Master will get us if we're not, I think. It's a big deal for them. I don't know exactly what happened when Bisca and Alzack finally got together, but from what I've heard it was a pretty big deal."

He snorted. "Yeah, but they were hella transparent. Like we were anywhere near _that_ obvious."

"Well, they all _know__,_ so apparently, yes we were."

"Tell me again how I got myself into this?" he asked.

She smiled. "If you were planning on a predictable future, you shouldn't have joined Fairy Tail. We don't do predictable very well."

"Shocker."

She grinned. "You like it – just admit it; you'd be bored to death in an ordinary guild."

"An ordinary guild would let me have some damn _privacy."_

"Yes, but it wouldn't have half the fun we have, now would it? And you wouldn't have found Lily, or me. I'm glad you joined."

He looked at her – really looked, as though searching for something. "Sure about that?"

"Yes," she said without hesitation.

He shook his head. "Stubborn nerd."

"Jerk."

"Midget."

"Compared to some."

"Compared to _everyone_."

She shot him a daring look. "Be nice."

He grinned, canines flashing. She rolled her eyes. "So are we doing this or not?"

He raised a brow. "Is there any getting out of it?"

"Probably not."

"Then let's get it over with."

Tightening her hold on his hand, she was both surprised and relieved when he didn't let go, only adjusted his grip a little, although clearly still not used to the gesture. She gave him a reassuring smile.

"Lily will have a field day," he grumbled. She rolled her eyes.

"Name someone who won't have a field day."

"Your accessories."

"Don't call them that, and...yeah, you're right. I should probably talk to them," she murmured, a frown tugging her brows down as a myriad of different but equally disastrous scenarios of how Jet and Droy would take it crashed down on her.

"Oye." His grip on her hand suddenly tightened, and she startled out of her thoughts.

She blinked. "What?"

Gajeel shrugged. "The idiots will deal with it – stop looking so damn worried."

She raised a brow. "Oh, _you're_ the voice of reason now?"

He snorted, motioning to the two of them. "We're never getting out of this room."

"Well, I'm not sensing any eagerness from _you,_ either."

"To enter that madhouse? No shit, Shorty."

"Well, we've got to do it – we can't just keep standing here."

"You sure about that?"

She nudged his side. "Come on – walk."

"Bossy nerd."

"Pansy."

"Oye–!

"Come on, Gajeel. Today?"

He glared at her, and she grinned back, and despite the embarrassment she knew was coming – how could it not, Fairy Tail being who they were – she felt a sense of peace settle around her heart as he strode out like he was heading for battle, tugging her along behind him like a sack of potatoes.

They hadn't had the easiest of beginnings, but it probably served them right anyway, for being such idiots. But as they walked out, awkwardly holding hands and trying not to look like they would rather be running in the opposite direction, Levy could only smile. Because idiots or not, things had worked out, hadn't they? She only hoped things would get easier from here.

Knowing Fairy Tail, though...

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><p>AN: I was really hoping for some GajeelLevy interaction in the manga this week, but ALAS, Mashima is determined to leave us all hanging. Oh, well, there's always next week...or next _year. _Just take your time, Hiro. It's not like we're waiting or anything.

Next up: it's not easy being a couple in a guild like Fairy Tail. Bisca and Alzack know this very well.


	8. cataclysm

AN: A huge THANK YOU to those who've reviewed, followed and favourited this. Truly, I am humbled by the positive feedback and love I've gotten despite my temporary neglect of you all. Anyway, just a small note on this chapter: this is where the story takes a detour from the manga-storyline into a semi-AU, so for those of you up to date with the latest chapter, this takes place directly after **day 3** of the tournament ('Pandemonium'), but **disregards** **chapters 286-7! **It's for the sake of the plot I had in mind before Mashima went and did something unexpected again (read: chapter 287). From here on out the canon storyline will also be interwoven with my own ideas, so keep that in mind.

Disclaimer: Fairy Tail and its characters belong to Hiro Mashima; I own absolutely nothing. Cover image by Rae.

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><p><strong>part VIII.<strong>

He usually wasn't one for attention.

Well, no. That wasn't entirely true, was it? He liked attention when it was due – say, when it came to his general prowess or his iron strength, because he _was_ pretty cool, and so a little attention was never completely unwarranted. But sometimes he just wished for nothing more than to go about his way, unobtrusive and unnoticed.

The key word being _unnoticed._

"You two are just so **_cute_**!"

Feeling his eye twitch, Gajeel was about to let the owner of the shrill voice know just what he thought about that particular choice of adjective when he was yanked away by the bookworm beside him, her small hand gripping his fingers tightly, almost threateningly. Steering him towards the bar, Levy was all deflective smiles and easy laughter, no doubt trying her best to counter the threatening glower Gajeel was hoping would drive the idiots out of the room and out of their path. If he had to answer one more question of who'd done what and _when _he was going to throw someone out the nearest window. Despite coming clean the night before, it hadn't done shit to quell the guild's excitement, and with their victory in the arena, the mood had gone through the roof.

"Please don't glower."

"Tch. I can glower all I want."

Levy rolled her eyes. "At least look a little happy?"

He snorted, raising a brow in a challenge to the brown gaze fixed intently on his. "Don't try turning those eyes on me, woman. I'm here, aren't I? Should damn well be enough."

She sighed, but didn't push further, tightening her grip on his hand instead. And despite his bravado, he did try to keep his eye from twitching at the gesture. It wasn't that he minded holding her hand so much as it was the fact that he just _didn't hold hands_. Holding hands were for sickeningly affectionate couples who needed to keep tabs on each other at all times. He wasn't like that. _They_ weren't like that.

Although...it wasn't all that bad, he guessed. It did give off a clear signal of who she belonged to, and he guessed that wasn't...half bad. Her hand was impossibly small in his, but her grip was surprisingly strong as she all but tugged him along in her wake, and he found that despite the fact that _he didn't hold hands_, on principle, he didn't mind overly much. Although he'd never tell her that. She'd get ideas.

"Oho, look at the couple being a couple," the bunny girl smirked as she sipped her drink, raising a teasing brow at they approached the bar. Gajeel – reminded once again that novelties were novelties for quite a long time in Fairy Tail – answered with a pointed glare in the blonde's direction. Unfortunately, the stellar mage was much too occupied with the small woman on his arm to even take notice. "Is he treating you right?" she asked, the question directed at the bookworm. Gajeel rolled his eyes, but Levy answered before he could come up with a smart remark.

"Told me I smelled like garbage yesterday, but I'll take it as a compliment."

Gajeel snorted. "Wasn't meant to be one."

Lucy didn't look surprised, but then again, she did spend her time with Salamander.

"Levy." The address came from behind them, and Gajeel inclined his head, only to find a patched up Titania loitering in their wake, looking...odd. There was really no other way of describing it. And suddenly she was _very_ close, face leaned almost consiprationally close to Levy's and with eyes wide and intense. "You must tell me."

Levy blinked, looking as confused as Gajeel felt. "Tell you what?"

This time the redhead was closer than even Gajeel was comfortable with, but he wasn't about to pick a fight with her over such a thing – she made him wary on the best of days, but scared the living shit out of him on others – especially if she got serious.

He caught her sneaking a quick glance at him, before shifting her attention back to Levy. When she spoke, her voice was quieter than it had been, but it was hard to miss the fervent force in her words. "_Everything!"_

From beside them, bunny girl sighed, palm covering her eyes and shaking her head in what seemed to be a mixture of amusement and fond exasperation. Gajeel wondered if he looked as confused as he felt, because she apparently thought he needed an explanation.

"Erza likes the sexy," she said simply.

And just like that, the fearsome Titania of Fairy Tail was as red as her hair, and looked more like a blustering schoolgirl than the warrior who'd taken on everything the Pandemonium-challenge had to offer and was still standing. Standing, and blushing furiously.

Lucy grinned, obviously used to whatever it was he was witnessing. Patting the barstool beside her, she made a grab for Levy's free hand – giving Gajeel the violent urge to yank her back and keep her to himself. "Come on – sit down and talk. I didn't get a good chance yesterday with all the commotion you two stirred up. You can listen, too, Erza," she added.

Gajeel snorted, but was thoroughly ignored as Levy was suddenly surrounded by women on all sides, eagerly asking questions of varying degrees of respectability. Glare in full effect but having little success, he caught an apologetic glance from the bookworm as she was steered into sitting down, before he turned to find something alcoholic to consume. Ignoring the smiles of the barmaid – who looked too fucking happy for her own good – the dragonslayer seated himself on a lone table at the back, propping his feet up and taking a long drag of the ale the woman had slid his way. Thankfully, without Levy latched onto his arm, there were few guild-members brave (or stupid) enough to approach him, even drunk out of their minds, and he was left in relative peace.

For a good five minutes, anyway.

"Gajeel."

Looking up over the brim of his mug, Gajeel motioned for the water mage to take a seat. Out of all the members in the guild not counting Levy and Pantherlily, she was the most tolerable, even if she was damn ridiculous sometimes. But they'd known each other in Phantom and he'd respected her abilities long before he'd even shared a single word with her. They were social rejects, the both of them – or at least, had been, before Fairy Tail. And he wouldn't be far off guessing that she had perhaps been the first to see him as something other than a tool to be used, or a monster to fear.

Tilting her head to the side, Juvia smiled serenely, and he was reminded that when she wasn't fawning over the ice-idiot, she was a good drinking companion.

But the staring was starting to get on his nerves.

"What?" he asked gruffly.

She shrugged. "Gajeel looks happy. Juvia is glad."

He snorted, but didn't bother to correct her. Taking another swig of his mug, he placed it down on the table with a heavy _thunk_, watching as droplets of ale ran down the side of the glass to pool on the wooden surface, before slithering away and swirling into different shapes as the water mage traced her finger across the wood. She hadn't stopped staring at him, though, and he had the distinct feeling she was holding something back, or waiting for something.

"You will treat her well," she said then, and had he been anyone else, Gajeel would have been surprised at her sudden change of speech. But Gajeel had known Juvia for a long time – that particular detail only showed that she was serious.

"Aa," he said simply.

She smiled at that, eyes drifting over to the bar, where the bookworm was busy being overwhelmed by what seemed like the majority of Fairy Tail's female population, and some of the boys. "She has a good heart," she said, turning back with a secret twinkle in her eyes. "Juvia knows she has much room in it for Gajeel."

He grunted in what he hoped was non-committal assent, but despite himself he found his eyes drifting over to the script-mage at the bar, laughing and grinning along with the other girls. _Happy. _And he would keep her that way, if he had anything to say about it. He had no bloody idea _how_ – only that he'd do what it took.

"Juvia...hopes to be happy like that someday," she said then, but where he feared she'd erupt into a serenade to her beloved stripper, she was quiet, gaze turned towards the bar with an almost wistful look on her face. After a lull, her lips quirked into a smile. "She stopped your rain...didn't she?"

It had been more like driving away the darkness, but he knew that between the two of them, it amounted to the same thing. And he didn't need to think twice before answering.

"Yeah, she did."

Juvia's smile widened. "Juvia can tell."

He snorted, although there wasn't any doubt that she did. The woman was damn perceptive when it came to others; it was herself she had trouble seeing. "I don't deserve her," he said then, surprising himself as well as her. He didn't talk much during their odd moments seated together, and the comment wasn't at all like him. Hell, talking about shit like this at all wasn't like him. But he'd done too much crazy shit in his time with Fairy Tail to even recognize what was and what wasn't him anymore, or what had been him before and what was him now.

Her eyes shifted to his, before flitting back to Levy on the other end of the room. She hummed, the sound low in her throat. "Those like us...like Juvia and Gajeel...they have a lot to repent for," she agreed.

Gajeel snorted. "That's putting it lightly." He'd never claim she'd had it easier than him in the aftermath of the war – there was shit he'd done that she'd had no part in, but she'd still been a mage of Phantom, and one of the best. Her hands were far from clean, even if she'd turned over her leaf long before he'd even considered the thought that he had a leaf to turn over.

A small smile tugged her lips upward. "The truth is not pretty, no...but Juvia thinks there are still those who can accept, even knowing that. Like Levy."

The droplets on the tabletop were moving in lazy circles, and Gajeel said nothing, only sat in silence as she played with her magic – something she'd used to do in their old guild, after he'd yelled at her to fuck off and get other friends, to which she'd simply insisted _he_ needed one more than she did, and he hadn't had anything to say to that. And then she'd just...stayed. And it'd become commonplace, an oddity even in their fucked up guild.

Placing her palm down on the table, the droplets stopped their dance to pool in small puddles. "Gajeel keeps secrets," she said then, raising her gaze to his. He didn't look away, only stared back, unflinching. A worried frown creased her brow, but she only titled her head, as though asking whether or not he was willing to share.

He looked away. "It's being taken care of. And she knows, so it's not a big deal," was what he said – was all he was willing to say on the subject, but by the smile on her face, it was all she needed to hear.

"That is good – Juvia was worried, but if Gajeel says it's alright, then Juvia trusts Gajeel," she declared. And although he wasn't nearly as certain as what he'd no doubt sounded like, Gajeel was glad she didn't pry. A comfortable silence settled between them after that, where he sipped his ale occasionally, and she went back to playing with her water, making the droplets jump and dance across the table. He registered at the back of his mind Levy leaving along with her accessories, but tired not to let his mind dwell on the fact. It was a conversation she'd wanted to postpone, but knowing the two, they'd be more of a nuisance if she didn't talk to them. The congregation of women at the bar scattered across the room, and the laughter and clinking of glasses faded into a steady hum in his ears.

He didn't know how long he dozed in his seat – an hour, maybe two. But he'd been left in peace, and he'd almost believed the evening wasn't going to be so bad after all, when a small shape suddenly materialized beside his leg.

Looking down, he found two enormous eyes gazing up at him under the brim of a corny-ass looking cowboy-hat. From beside him, Juvia made a cooing noise. "Ah! Hello, Asuka!"

Gajeel snorted, gaze flickering across the brat, who was still staring up at him. "Oye, shoo," he said, tilting his head in a motion for her to run along. She made no move to do so, though, only stood her ground, eyes still big in her ridiculously small face and looking at him like he was the most interesting thing she'd ever laid eyes on. And hell, maybe he was.

"Asuka! There you are," the mother – _Bisca,_ not Biscuit, he'd learned now – interjected as she came up to them, an apologetic smile on her face. "So sorry, Gajeel. She's prone to run off sometimes," she apologised. Before he could open his mouth, however, the other cowboy-weirdo was beside her, and the girl let out a happy laugh at the sight of him.

"My favourite girls," he greeted, ruffling her hair before flashing a smile at Gajeel and Juvia. "Seems like congratulations are in order, Gajeel," he said, eyes crinkling with humour. "Or perhaps apologies on behalf of everyone?" he asked with a grin. His wife laughed with him.

"Oh, I remember what that was like – no peace for _weeks_!" she interjected. "Although to be fair, it wasn't until we got this little doll that they left us alone," she added, kissing the girl now in her arms sloppily on the cheek, to which the child erupted into an ear-splitting squeal of giggles. Gajeel's eye twitched at the sound, and he took a large swig of his ale.

_Years?_ Dear God, why couldn't they just kill him and get it over with?

The cowboy-idiot laughed along with them. "Yeah – good luck with that!" he said, _uselessly_, before they walked away merrily, leaving Gajeel and Juvia alone again. The dragonslayer felt like drowning himself in his ale.

Juvia smiled. "Juvia remembers them before the exams," she murmured. Gajeel said nothing. He remembered, too. Two ridiculously shy idiots who couldn't even look at each other without blushing. But as he watched them with the kid they'd produced sometime in the last seven years, he guessed they'd done pretty well for themselves. And they looked happy and shit. He just hoped it wouldn't take a near fucking decade before the other idiots left him and Levy be.

Judging from his current luck, it seemed rather far-fetched.

"Oye, these seats taken?"

He wanted to tell them to fuck off, but the fact that the water-mage beside him looked ready to pass out in her seat, even a bastard like him couldn't put his heart into the rejection. "Yes – go somewhere else."

Accepting the unnamed offer, the ice-idiot plopped down across from him, followed by the Salamander, and he wondered when people had started to think he was even remotely approachable and open to conversation.

"So, Gajeel – _taken_ now, huh?" the pink-haired idiot said with a grin, and Gajeel resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Good observation, hothead."

"Just stating a _fact,_ metal-brows."

He snorted. "Jealous?"

Salamander laughed. "Of what? You taking a _lifetime_ to ask her out?"

The ice-idiot grinned over the brim of his drink. "Yeah, what took you so long?"

"Gray, you're naked," the stellar mage commented as she took a seat next to the pink haired idiot, and Gajeel wondered what had happened to the peace and solitude he'd had only moments before. It'd gone straight to hell, that's what.

"Shit!"

And despite this being the third time since they'd entered the bar, the alchemist-idiot made a scramble for his missing pants. Juvia still looked ready to pass out, and, realizing he'd as good as lost the only tolerable drinking companion at their table, Gajeel felt defeat finally settle on his shoulders.

"So..." the stellar mage began, leaning her elbows on the table. "Levy left with Jet and Droy a while ago. Looked pretty serious."

He snorted. "Shorty can handle herself," he grumbled, although he had the distinct and sudden urge to get up and look for them. She was too damn nice for her own good, and if either of them tried to take advantage of that, he'd bash their heads in. Now that he thought about it...they'd been gone a good while, too.

"They're not going to make her change her mind, you know," the blonde said, breaking him out of his glaring, and his gaze shifted back to find them all staring at him in a creepy, coordinated fashion.

Salamander grinned. "Yeah, she's rejected them tons of times before this!" he agreed.

The spirit mage smirked. "Yeah, but...you could always follow. Just in case." He caught the twinge of concern in her voice, and snorted.

"Like I said, she can handle hersel–"

"I approve of this plan," Titania's voice came from behind him suddenly, and he nearly choked on his tongue. Bunny girl rolled her eyes.

"No one asked you," she said, but there was a smile on her face. From beside him, Juvia nodded vigorously.

"Gajeel should go. Levy might not like what they say," she said. "She might be upset."

And with them all staring at him like that, expectant faces like a row of children at Christmas, he suddenly found he hadn't the faintest idea of what the hell he was going to do. He wanted to tell them to fuck off and mind their own damn business, but part of him was curious.

"What," he asked, a wry smirk tugging on his lips. They were creeping the shit out of him, acting like this, and he needed to settle the balance of things. "You're all just going to trust me to go after them, alone?" The '_Remember what happened last time?' _hung heavy in the air between them.

And consequently evaporated when they all nodded without hesitation, and Gajeel felt like some part of his existence had spun off its axis and left him hanging by his leg.

Suddenly, the Salamander grinned, cutting through the tension like a knife. "Idiot, you're a Fairy Tail mage – the hell shouldn't we trust you?"

Oh, fuck everything to hell.

"Shaddup!" Rising to his feet brusquely, Gajeel ignored the near identical grins on their faces as he all but stalked out of the room, headed towards the exit like the devil was on his back. Shouldering his way between various guild-members, glare fierce enough to turn away anyone wishing to either congratulate or stop for a quick word. A growl rumbled at the back of his throat. Fucking idiot, throwing those damn words around like it was bloody confetti. And it wasn't like it'd meant anything to him, either. No fucking way. Stupid, trusting fairies.

"–_the hell shouldn't we trust you?"_

It wasn't that simple. It just wasn't. Not after what he'd done – what he was _still_ doing.

Was it?

Looking back over his shoulder, at the table he'd just left and the laughing fairies seated around it, and receiving a thumbs-up from more than one of them, he found that maybe, maybe...it was. Damn it all, when had he gone and started to fucking _care_?

Rubbing at his temples and trying not to be pleased with the fact that his ass wasn't _completely_ despised, Gajeel pushed his way outside. The cold night air was a welcome blessing, and he breathed deeply through his nose as he set out to locate Levy and the two idiots. Speaking of which – the hell did they need to be so dramatic for, anyways? It was her bloody choice, wasn't it? Then again, they did insist on protecting her on missions she was fully capable of doing on her own, so it was to be expected, to some extent. It came with the caring about her safety or whatever.

Sniffing the air, he tried picking up their scent, and following the faint trail that told him they'd passed some time ago, found himself heading towards the inner city. The streets were as good as empty at this hour, save the occasional straggler or drunk, and he was left in relative peace as he manoeuvred his way in the direction his nose had pointed him.

A sudden sense of familiarity struck him then, and he was reminded of another night he'd followed this particular scent, through streets not so different from the ones he was now prowling, and a heavy feeling of disgust settled somewhere in the pit of his stomach where Lily had once told him his conscious was. He'd been hunting then – purposefully stalking them from the shadows like prey heading to the slaughter.

Shaking his head to clear it of the unbidden memories, Gajeel picked up his pace. He wasn't hunting now. He was going to make sure they didn't upset her too much, which was kind of like protecting, which was the opposite of hunting.

But despite his efforts, the sickening tug of nostalgia wouldn't leave him.

Growling low in the back of his throat, Gajeel put his mind to the task of locating the trio, stopping to sniff the air again and inhaling deeply through his nose, closing his eyes as he focused on his surroundings. They couldn't have gotten that far, and to be honest, neither of them had any particular skills in the stealth-department...disregarding the bookworm's little shadow-trek that had cost him his biggest secret, but that was beside the po–

The sudden and intrusive scent of blood had his eyes flying open, and something tightened behind his ribs as he realized he _knew_ that scent. It'd been stuck in his nose for what felt like an age – a constant reminder of his choices and actions, and as though carved into the marrow of his very soul, he hadn't been able to forget it even if he'd tried.

He _knew_ that scent, and it had him running faster than he knew himself capable, eyes blind to the world around him, blood pumping frantically in his ears and his body knowing only one command: _find_.

It took him two streets, three corners and an alley to reach them.

And if he couldn't quite remember the feeling of wanting to throw up everything in his system, he was suddenly and violently reacquainted with it.

For high up on the large oak tree standing tall in one of the many gardens of the Capitol hung the battered, bloodied form of the bookworm that had only hours ago grinned so brilliantly at him from across the crowded room. Strung up by her arms in a grotesque imitation of his own, sloppy crucifixion all those years ago, her head hung limply against her chest, vibrant locks smudged dark with blood and chopped as though trimmed with a butcher's knife. Stretched to their limits, her left shoulder bent at an unnatural angle that had the dormant beast within him thrashing in anger, her arms looked looked ready to tear right off. And as disbelieving eyes found her hands, his blood ran cold in his veins, because he'd seen this before. Tiny palms impaled with thick iron nails in a silent mockery of the power he so claimed as his own, used against that which he treasured most.

And on the ground by her feet, her companions lay in misshapen heaps; limbs bent at awkward angles, neither moving. Neither breathing, but Gajeel was barely aware of anything but the sight before him.

Because the worst thing by far – the sight that set his insides aflame and his world tipping over the edge – was the symbol carved into the soft skin of her stomach. Slowly draining her lifeblood, carved with too much precision to be anything but a thorough job, its shape was a shadow against her skin, eating at the light, and even done by a careless hand would he have recognized it in an instant. A living mockery of their own symbol, bent and twisted and _corrupt_.

And he couldn't move. Couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't _exist _with the sight towering before him, lit up by the pale moonlight like some sacrificial monument. The scent of blood was thick on the air, but where it had once upon a time sent him into throes of excitement, his nose burned like fire and his very soul screamed as it ate away at his sanity.

A breath of wind brushed past him, tangling his hair and carrying with it a piece of bloodied, torn cloth that fluttered against the toe of his boot. The tattered remains of a headband, slick with blood; the embroidered rosette shredded beyond recognition.

He'd roared before, many times. When he got serious in battle, or when he was just putting on a little extra flair during a fight, to intimidate his enemies. A trademark attack or just his general attitude getting an outlet, he always roared with a passion, just like his Pa had taught him. For a dragon, it was a declaration of dominance – a sign of strength. But there was nothing intimidating about the howl that cut the quiet night air. Only anguish.

And in the deathly stillness of its wake, the persistent caw of ravens.

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><p>AN: ...eheh..heh...yes.<p> 


	9. lament

AN: The cliffhanger last chapter was tons of fun, no? Yeah, no, nearly broke my heart writing it, but what would this story be without a little angst and drama to go alongside the romance?

**Warning:** there is **coarse language** and **descriptions of** **violence** in this chapter. It's not really anything worse than you've seen so far, but one can never be too cautious with rating rules on this site, so there you go.

Disclaimer: Fairy Tail and its characters belong to Hiro Mashima; I own absolutely nothing. Cover image by Rae.

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><p><strong>part IX.<strong>

_"_**_I'll tear him to fucking shreds!"_**

Lucy winced at the resounding crack as the iron dragonslayer slammed his fists down onto the table in front of him, the force of it sending a shudder through the room. Breathing ragged and pupils dilated to the point where they looked like slits, Gajeel reminded her of Natsu when a fight took a turn for the worst. Energy crackled around him, and the very air thrummed with pent-up aggression and bloodlust. But the anger was one thing. She'd seen the man before her angry in many settings – the most common being his usual, day-to-day gruffness. So no, the anger wasn't the worst. Not by _far._

The worst was the sheer, naked agony that painted the narrowed lines of his face. Like an open wound to the unforgiving sting of cold air, it cut straight through to the roots of her heart, leaving a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach – a lump the size of a rock, gnawing at her insides.

She'd never seen him like this. She doubted _anyone_ had – even Juvia who had known him the longest seemed paralysed where she sat, empty eyes gazing out at nothing. No one knew how to handle the situation or what to say to the man before them, looking like his world had been split open and desecrated before his very eyes. Lucy had no words for such hurt – couldn't find them if she tried. Like a slow-settling paralysis spreading throughout the room, Fairy Tail had been rendered into a state of complete and utter shock.

And the reason lay in a battered heap in the makeshift infirmary they'd made in the back room of the bar, beaten almost beyond the point of recognition and teetering on the brink of death.

The thought had her knuckles turning white as her trembling hands clenched against the tabletop, and she bit down on her bottom lip until she tasted blood. Her anger was a fierce thing. Not the slow, pained hurt of 'this was all my fault' that had plagued her the last time it had happened – not the hurt the man before her had to be feeling, his entire _body shaking_ with the force of it. No - _this_ anger simmered in her stomach like hot coals, the feeling reaching out to the very tips of her fingers, and she longed – _longed_ – for justice with a vengeance that would have frightened her, had the situation not been was it was.

"Gajeel, you must–"

"I'll be as _fucking_ _angry_ as I want to, old man, and I'll have his head even if I have to _level this city!_"

The force of his hands slamming down again had the wood shattering into splinters, and Lucy flinched away from the debris. From beside Gajeel, Natsu's form was an unmoving pillar, back ramrod-straight and arms crossed over his chest. Silent, for a change.

And the fact had her blood running cold in her veins, because a silent Natsu was about as frightening a vision as a Gajeel that looked on the verge of a mental breakdown.

She felt her nails dig into the skin of her palms as she remembered the sound – the _howl_ that had seemed to shake the very foundation of the city. She hadn't known what it'd been at first, other than that it'd been both absolutely terrifying and heartbreaking all at once, but Natsu had known, and _Wendy_ had known, and the fact had spoken _volumes,_ given that their companion had been missing. So when they'd both burst out through the doors moments later, no one had questioned their behaviour, only followed suit with an urgency that required no explanation.

She had remained put, but the fear had already lodged itself in her heart. Fear, because she knew that only _one_ thing could have caused such a roar from a man who rarely allowed for emotion of any kind to show save irritation and a dark sense of humour. The very thought of what could have happened had caught her heart in a vice, squeezing slowly throughout the agonizing moments it took for them to come back.

Then the doors had burst open, and her heart had stopped right in her chest, because cradled gently in arms that Lucy had seen do more harm than good, Levy's small form had been almost unrecognisable, covered in cuts and lacerations, and there were _gaping holes in_ _her small hands_...

And the _blood._ There'd been so much blood Lucy had caught herself wondering if she'd had anything left.

Covered in it like some sort of grotesque guardian, Gajeel had looked ready to tear the place apart, but then Wendy had been at his elbow, the soft glow of healing energy already covering her hands as she tugged at his arms to let her come closer. Following suit, Natsu and Gray had entered, carrying the two remaining members of Shadow Gear, and Lucy's stomach had almost given out on her at the sight of the twisted shapes of their bodies. Chaos had broken out, and it was the war with Phantom _all_ _over_ _again,_ except this time the thirst for revenge was quelled by the sharp urgency for medical aid. Because where the three had been beaten pretty badly the last time, it was _nothing_ compared to the sheer and utter torture that had been imposed upon them now.

Porlyusica had been called without hesitation, and Wendy had gotten to work with an efficiency and a hard set to her eyes that didn't suit a girl so young, but that the situation required more than anything. Orders had been shouted and the guild had erupted into a flurry of movement, and Lucy had barely managed to get a glimpse of her best friend before she'd been moved into the back room, the floor stained dark by the footsteps of the man who had carried her inside.

Now the scent of blood and iron remained, as well as a void full of unanswered questions.

"_Why?"_

She barely recognized her own voice as she spoke – a coarse whisper catching in her throat as it cut through the quiet. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth, and the lump in her chest swelled with the need for answers. _Any_ answer.

"Why this?" she asked. "Why _now_?"

Blazing crimson eyes met hers before they shifted to settle on the Master, and the growl that followed was dripping with a contempt that had a shiver running up her spine.

"Why don't _you_ explain it, old man?" Gajeel all but snarled, the sound more animal than human. His eyes were sunken in his face, his fangs more prominent than they usually were and in places, the shade and texture of his skin seemed almost close to scales.

Several sets of eyes turned towards the weary form of their leader – a pillar of strength in times of hardship, but taking in the deep lines of his face and the dark shadows of his eyes, Lucy realized that Makarov had little strength left to offer. And for the first time since joining the guild, she realized how old he truly was – the age often hidden behind smiles and laughter befitting a much younger man.

There were no smiles for them now.

"There is no doubt that this is the work of my son," he began then, confirming Lucy's initial fears, and a sharp string of curses erupted all around her. That Raven Tail had something planned was long in coming, but none of them could have predicted _this._

Makarov held up a hand, silencing the rising clamour. "We have known for some time that Raven Tail has been planning something," he continued, voicing what they were all thinking – what they had all been _waiting_ _for_ since the beginning of the games.

"In fact," he said, "we have been more than a little aware of this."

Lucy's brows furrowed.

Turning his eyes on Gajeel, Makarov looked suddenly apologetic. "Since his acceptance into the guild, Gajeel has been working on my behest as a double-agent between Fairy Tail and Raven Tail," he said then, arms crossed over his chest as his voice rang loud across the silent room – like the heavy toll of a bell in an empty cathedral.

No one spoke. Not a curse or a whisper followed this revelation, and Lucy felt like throwing up. _No..._

Makarov sighed, the sound a heavy thing in the silence around them. "My son must have discovered this, somehow. This..._atrocity,"_ his lips curled at the word, "was not a declaration of war. It was _retaliation."_

She could see Gajeel's hands clench against his sides as his entire form bristled. Beside him, Natsu remained still as a statue, his body trembling with silent anger.

The sound of a chair being pushed back forcibly had all eyes turning to Erza as she rose from her seat. Eyes blazing, she stood tall amongst the other seated members. "Why was no one else informed of this?" she asked, voice ringing out across the room. "We could have done something. We could have kept a closer eye on Levy, we–" she stopped, hands clenching at her sides as she stopped herself.

"We could have done something, if we'd known," Gray spoke up from behind her, anger etched in the deep set of his eyes.

Makarov didn't flinch. "It was a decision not made lightly, but a decision I regret ever having made," he declared with a shake of his head. "I can only take the blame myself. I should not have burdened you with this alone, my boy," he murmured, statement directed at Gajeel, who said nothing, but the set of his shoulders tensed even further, and Lucy wondered briefly how much more before he snapped completely.

"My son has gone too far," Makarov continued, his voice taking on an edge that had Lucy's blood curdling. With his usual smiles and attitude, it was easy to forget the fearsome power that had earned Makarov his reputation. But there was nothing kind to the set of his eyes now, only anger. Anger and _fear_ – deep and piercing like a cold wind cutting straight to the marrow of the bone.

"And this is as far as he goes," Gajeel growled, turning towards the door.

"Gajeel!" Makarov snapped, and the sudden release of magical energy knocked the wind right from her lungs. Gajeel didn't even flinch, but turned to glare at the older man.

"_I'm going_," was all he said – the statement final.

"I'm going with you," Natsu spoke up, turning to look at his fellow dragonslayer, his entire stance bristling with pent-up fury.

"As am I," Erza declared, crossing her arms over her chest, and a chorus of agreement followed these statements, until the bar was a cacophony of voices and shouts.

"–not just going to sit by idly–"

"–went too far! Levy–"

"–pay for this!"

"–**is war!"**

"**SILENCE!"**

The roar cut through the clamour, and all sound ceased to exist as a wave of energy crashed through the room – the pressure enough to send several chairs clattering to the floor, taking more than one unaware guild-member with them. Before them, Makarov's small form shook, and Lucy shrunk back in her seat at the force of his presence.

"Do I need to _remind_ you what happened the last time we barged in without thinking?!" he all but shouted at them, narrowed eyes coming to rest on Gajeel and Natsu. "You**_all_**," he snapped, and Gajeel visibly bristled, "remember what happened. We were lucky with Phantom. _I_ was lucky. I have no idea what my son is planning to do with this, but I will _not_ risk more than I already have by barging in without a mind for the consequences. The tournament–"

"**To hell with the fucking tournament!"** Gajeel roared, turning to fully face Makarov. "I ain't going to sit still because of some goddamn competi–"

"You will stand down if I order you to! _All of you!_**_"_** Makarov cut him off, energy crackling around him and making his eyes glow.

"Don't misunderstand, my boy – I am not planning to sit down and take this lightly. These are my children – my daughter and my sons. Ivan crossed the line and he will deal with the consequences of doing so – believe my words when I say this – but I will _not_ endanger the guild where I need not," he explained, voice a deep rumble in the room. Gajeel's glare persisted, but Makarov stood his ground. The tension was a heavy weight around them, like lead on her lungs, and Lucy struggled to keep a hold of her consciousness under the sheer pressure. She'd seen Makarov angry. During the war with Phantom, she'd been present at his discovery of Gajeel's little 'message', but now...

Anger didn't even begin to cover the sheer and utter _fury_ that whipped around the small man like a storm.

Opening his mouth, Makarov was about to speak when the slam of a door cut through the air like a knife, and several pairs of eyes turned to the doorway and the towering form of Laxus as he entered from outside. Upon catching sight of the state of the room and the people in it, blonde brows furrowed in confusion.

"What's going on?" he asked, narrowed eyes shifting between his companions until they landed on Evergreen and Bixlow. No one spoke – no one dared speak in the wake of the Master's anger.

Finally, the masked man crossed his arms over his chest. "Your old man went after Shadow Gear," he murmured, voice lacking it's playful edge. Laxus frowned, turning to look at his grandfather.

"Pops did?" he asked. Makarov only nodded. The blond man's confusion deepened. "But...Levy and the others? Why–"

And then he went very, very still.

Lucy felt her heart sink in her chest. Makarov frowned. "What is the matter? Laxus?"

The youngest Dreyar only shook his head, but didn't have a chance to open his mouth before there was a hand on his collar, pulling him towards the glaring red eyes of a very angry dragonslayer. _"What did you do?"_

The blonde glared, but made no attempt to remove the hand on his collar. "Pops cornered me after the fight," he said, eyes turning towards Makarov. Power crackled in the air with a warning; he wasn't going to be bullied. "Asked me some shit about Fairy Tail's 'darkness'. I didn't know what the hell he was going on about, so I told him to fuck off."

Gajeel's grip tightened on his shirt, lips pulling back into a snarl. "Was that _all_ you said?"

Laxus glared back. "I told him we had intel on him, but I didn't tell him it was from_–_"

His sentence was cut off as Gajeel pushed them both forward, slamming him against the wall with enough force to send cracks shooting through the wood, though Laxus seemed oddly unaffected, which only seemed to anger Gajeel. "That's all he fucking needed!"

"Gajeel!"

But the dragonslayer wasn't listening, and Lucy could only watch the two as they stared each other down. Laxus' patience looked to be thinning, and the air thrummed with energy. "Gajeel, I didn't know he'd go after _her–"_

"What _else_ does he have on me, huh?" Gajeel snarled. "You ratted me out, you fuck–"

"Gajeel," Makarov spoke, but the man was beyond listening, Lucy realized. Dark energy lashed out, and she felt her heart seize at the feel of it – like a taint upon the soul, eating away at the light. She had heard somewhere about dragons going mad after losing a mate, but hadn't thought the same went for humans with dragon-abilities.

But if this kept up, there would soon be little human left of Gajeel Redfox.

"Gajeel."

And then Lily was there, fully transformed, a hand on his partner's shoulder to forcibly haul him away from Laxus. Gajeel turned to snarl at the Exceed, but at the look from his friend, some of the dark energy seemed to dissipate. Lily turned his gaze on the blond man, although he didn't remove his grip on Gajeel.

"What did Ivan do after you told him off?" he asked gruffly.

Laxus straightened his coat, and his brows were furrowed deeply into his eyes. He kept his eyes on Gajeel as he spoke. "He tried convincing me to join him, but I walked away. Tournament rules being what they are..." He cursed under his breath.

Makarov crossed his arms over his chest. "You could not have predicted that this would happen," he said, eyes directed at Gajeel although he spoke to his grandson. "None–"

Whatever he'd been about to say trailed off at the sound of the storage-room door swinging open to reveal the glaring face of Porlyusica. The entire guild went still at her appearance, and Lucy felt her heart drop to her stomach, although by the perpetual scowl on the old woman's face, it was impossible to tell if she was the bearer of good or bad news.

After what seemed an eternity, she turned her gaze on Gajeel. "She's stable," she said, and Lucy felt as though all the air left her body as a rush of relief flooded her system. Tears pressed against the backs of her eyes, and she covered her face with her hands, thanking whatever greater force listening that her friend wasn't lying dead in the room behind her.

"And Jet and Droy?" Gray asked. The old woman snorted.

"Looked worse than it was – broken bones will always mend. My priority is the girl," she grumbled, before turning to go back inside. Stopping in the doorway, she inclined her head to look at Gajeel.

"The angry one can come in if he doesn't break anything."

Then she was gone, the door slipping shut behind her.

And despite the complete and utter terror of the past hour, the sheer relief that flooded the room was a tangible thing, like a great dam breaking, and Lucy couldn't for the life of her stop the tears as they filled her eyes to slide down her cheeks. Makarov breathed an enormous sigh of relief, his shoulders sagging, and Lucy saw the glint of tears as he ducked his head.

And Gajeel...

Turning her eyes to the iron dragonslayer, Lucy felt a relieved smile tug at her lips as the dark energy seemed to vanish completely. Lily's hand was still on his shoulder – a source of comfort now, more than a way of control – and the Exceed gave it a squeeze.

"There will be time for battle later, my friend. Go check on your girl," he said softly, the rumble of his voice barely reaching Lucy's ears from where she was seated. Gajeel nodded, visibly bristling, but kept his anger down as he turned to Laxus, standing in front of the massive dent in the wall he'd been shoved into only moments before.

"If she doesn't make it, Dreyar," he growled, the coarse words both a promise and a threat as he moved towards the doorway.

"Your ass is _mine_."

* * *

><p>It was a good hour later when Lucy made her way into the makeshift infirmary, under the harsh scrutiny of the old healer that had allowed her entry. Giving her a warning glance – although Lucy didn't need to be told to be quiet – Porlyusica stepped out into the common room, allowing her privacy. Pushing the door softly closed behind her, she felt a shudder race through her at the sight that greeted her upon her entrance.<p>

Tucked in on the bed across the room, the sight of her friend's still form was a familiar one. Smaller lacerations criss-crossed whatever exposed skin was visible while the rest was heavily wrapped in thick gauze, and had it not been for the barely perceptible rise and fall of her chest, Lucy would have had a hard time believing her still alive.

But she _was_ breathing, and the fact was a lifeline she grasped onto with fervour.

Crossing the expanse of the room, she smiled softly at the sight of their littlest dragonslayer passed out beside the bed, the top half of her torso sprawled across the mattress. One tiny hand held a firm grip on a slim, bandaged wrist – keeping watch of her pulse, no doubt, even in her exhausted sleep. A blanket had been thrown across her shoulders for warmth, and Lucy smiled at the gesture, turning her gaze on the dragonslayer on Levy's other side, his shadowed form a towering thing in the small room.

"Kid looked cold," was all he said. Lucy nodded, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Inhaling deeply through her nose, she asked the question that hung heavy in the air between them.

"How is she?"

Gajeel didn't take his eyes off the script mage as he spoke. "Still stable. Old hag said if she makes it through the night..." he trailed off.

Lucy nodded, relief blossoming in the void in her heart despite the implications – the 'if' standing out like a stain. She _would_ make it. She had to – for all of them.

But most of all for the man at her side.

She told him this. He only nodded. "Shorty's stubborn," he said, with a fervour perhaps to convince himself, and Lucy felt a smile tug at her lips.

"She is, isn't she?"

Silence settled between them where they sat. If she listened closely, she could hear the soft, ragged breaths of her friend. It was a comforting sound. Allowing her eyes to settle on the man across from her, Lucy felt her gaze soften. Mental exhaustion marred the sharp angles of his face, and his eyes glowed a faint red in the dim light of the room. He hadn't bothered to clean away the blood, but then again, Lucy doubted he'd left her side since Porlyusica had let him in.

"If we'd known..." she murmured, voice trailing off, but the meaning of her words clear between them. He snorted.

"Wouldn't have made a difference."

She nodded softly. She'd gathered as much. From what'd she'd seen of Raven Tail, she had no doubt that it'd been in Makarov's best intentions not involving them all, although the fact still left a sour taste to her mouth.

"Did she know?"

He nodded, brusquely. "Didn't care."

Despite everything, she felt an amused smile tug at her lips. "I think it'd take more than that to scare her off," she murmured. He snorted, but his hand tightened around the wrist in his grip.

"Stubborn idiot."

Eyes drawn to his hand, Lucy caught sight of the piece of cloth tied around his own wrist – shredded and dark with blood. Her eyes softened as she recognized it for what it was.

"I could stitch that up for you," she said then, surprising herself. "Clean it."

He blinked, as though only now realizing he had it there. Allowing his eyes to rest on it, it took a moment before he nodded, reaching to untangle the cloth.

Accepting it from him, Lucy tried not to dwell on the state of the thing. It was one of Levy's favourites, she knew, but torn as it was, there was little left of the pretty headband that had adorned her best friend's hair for the better part of the games. But she'd always been good with a needle and thread. And she could make a new rosette – she only needed a little extra cloth.

She was no healer, but this – _this_ she could do. For him.

Tucking it into her pocket, Lucy turned her eyes on Wendy, still snoring softly beside them. Gajeel followed her gaze.

"Been at it since she was brought in," he said. Lucy nodded. Going until she had no more to draw on, even if it endangered herself. She tucked a strand of dark hair behind a small ear, a smile tugging at her lips as the small girl snorted in her sleep. Allowing her gaze to rest on her best friend's face, eyes closed in deep sleep – _how_ deep, she didn't want to think about – Lucy inhaled a shuddering breath.

"She's stable," she stated, repeating his words from before, as if it would make a difference. He only nodded.

Turning her gaze on him, she swallowed, knowing the words needed to be said but not wishing to break the calm that had finally seized hold of him after his near-breakdown.

"Master wants to speak with you – with all of us," she said softly. Gajeel looked up, eyes meeting hers briefly, before nodding.

"Now?"

She nodded, but remained seated at the foot of the bed. "I told him I'd get you. They're waiting."

The room was silent. Wendy mumbled in her sleep.

Gajeel's eyes lingered on the small form on the bed, before rising slowly to his feet – his dark shape a massive shadow before her. He didn't say anything, but knowing him, he probably wasn't the type to, and especially not with Lucy in the room. What he did, however, surprised her. Reaching out, he brushed an errant lock of blue hair, still caked with blood, away from a bruised brow.

Then he was walking past her, out the door and into the common room without preamble. From the open door a sliver of light and the murmur of voices reached her ears. Casting one look behind her at her sleeping friends, Lucy made to follow, sliding the door shut behind her. The room that greeted her was all tension and pent-up anticipation, and as she came to stand beside Natsu and Gajeel, she noticed the presence of a familiar face.

Despite the hour of the night, Doranbolt stood before Makarov, arms crossed over his chest and with a serious expression on his face. At Lucy's entrance, the old man nodded. Beside him, Porlyusica stood, narrowed eyes trained on the newcomer.

"I assume you're wondering what I called you here for," Makarov spoke then, the statement directed at Doranbolt**, **whose posture straightened at his address.

"It's a little late for social calls," he retorted, but there was no humour in his voice. Makarov nodded, and his next expression was all harsh lines and brooking no argument.

"My reason for calling you here is for an appeal to the Council for permission to eradicate Raven Tail."

If the request surprised him, Doranbolt didn't show it. "I assumed something was brewing. Your son forfeited their place in the games earlier today," he said, to which Makarov's brows furrowed sharply. Lucy could hear murmurs of surprise erupt from across the room.

"Is that so," the Master spoke. Doranbolt nodded.

"It was a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. We have received more than a fair share of complaints on their behaviour in the games already," he said, crossing his arms over his chest, his brow furrowing. "But that does not warrant reason for a full-on guild war."

Makarov's expression didn't change. Inclining his head to Porlyusica, his voice was a sharp knife through the gathering tension. "What have you to say to this, old friend?"

The old woman snorted, the scowl on her face an ugly thing. "I've just spent the better part of three hours reshaping a wound so that the scarring won't cause permanent nightmares," she said. "If you're lacking evidence to back this old fool's reason to go to war, you're welcome to see it with your own eyes," she scoffed.

Doranbolt frowned. Makarov crossed his arms over his chest. "Boy, if the seriousness of this situation eludes you, let me make myself clear. I've now asked for permission from the Council, but I never said my actions depended on the granting of this."

Narrowing his eyes, he fixed the younger man with a look that would have just about anyone shrinking away. Doranbolt's shoulders stiffened, and he took an involuntary step back.

"We are from this moment onwards officially at war with Raven Tail!"

The rising clamour was a fearsome thing – the howl of voices shouting their agreement making Doranbolt swivel around, surprise etched on his face. From beside her, Natsu cracked his knuckles, a dark look in his eyes as a bout of energy lashed out from his tense form. Erza stepped up beside him, arms crossed over her armoured chest, Gray and Juvia at her heels. And behind them, the Raijinshu, flanked by the rest of Fairy Tail.

The air thrummed.

Turning towards the front doors, Natsu addressed them all. But there was no grin on his face – no eager smile promising the fight of a lifetime and no excited yell of 'I'm getting fired up!' to spur the rest of them into action. In stead, grey eyes holding a storm in their depths settled on Gajeel, the promise of retribution a fierce thing in the gloom of the early morning light streaming in through the windows.

"Let's go hunt some ravens."

* * *

><p>AN: Laxus' solo-smackdown in the manga was pretty darn cool, but I have to say I was a bit disappointed that they went down so easily (although I doubt they're gone for good – there's just too much potential angsty family-drama for Mashima to give up on it now). And despite the fact that I wanted to have them all rush in and hand Ivan his ass on a platter right away, the logical, reasonable side of me reminded me that, given what happened last time, they couldn't just initiate another war without considering the consequences. So I hope my handling of the situation was acceptable. I don't like plotholes, so I try to fill them as best I can. Doranbolt is thus put in a very tricky situation, but I'm counting on his soft spot for Fairy Tail to win out and help him come up with some bureaucratic mumbo-jumbo to clear their name. Or something like that. Ah, what the hell. He'll figure it out.<p> 


	10. the hunt

AN: Another huge THANK YOU for all the amazing feedback I've gotten on this! I'm glad the way I've taken this thing hasn't resulted in complete abandonment; I like me a little angst to go with my romance, so long as it all ends well.

**Warning**: language, violence, mentions of torture – nothing you haven't already seen or didn't already see coming.

Disclaimer: Fairy Tail and its characters belong to Hiro Mashima; I own absolutely nothing. Cover image by Rae.

* * *

><p><strong>part X.<strong>

As dawn broke across the capitol city of Crocas, the fairies began their hunt.

The sun had yet to rise above the rooftops, and there was a misty quality to the early morning air that bathed the city, creating an almost eerie effect. And through the winding cobblestone streets, six shadowed figures walked, shoulders tensed in anticipation for what awaited them. Compared to the usual flamboyance and vigour they were known for, there was little that reminded of Fairy Tail in their silent march through the city streets. There were no gleeful shouts from Salamander, no banter with the ice alchemist, and even Titania had an unusual air of severity about her as they bore down on their eagerly awaiting prey.

Ahead the ravens awaited, cawing mockingly in the stillness of the morning.

Around them, the streets of the city were empty – devoid of their usual bustle in the early morning light, but Gajeel supposed it was for the best. Because with or without the Council's permission, the carnage he was prepared to unleash didn't need an unnecessary audience.

A growl pulled its way free of his lips at the thought. If Makarov had asked him sooner to go after Ivan, he'd have done so on the sheer and utter fact that the man was batshit crazy and needed to be put down. Now...now he would have hunted the bastard down even if the old man had told him to stand his ground. Because there was no forgiveness to find in his corroded heart for evil like that. Maybe _she_ could find it in her, but not him. Because he wasn't like her – he didn't have in it him to forgive atrocities of the degree that his former master had committed. The act had been more than an insult – more than simple revenge, even. Ivan had done it because he _could_ – because he'd known what would hit Gajeel the hardest. It was a power play – the unspoken 'I can _break you'_ so fucking clear it might as well have been blown up on a banner across the city. It was also the reason Levy wasn't dead – dead was too easy.

Watching her fight her way through the injuries – injuries he hadn't been able to prevent – _that_ was his punishment. Ivan's retaliation.

Studded brows furrowed above narrowed, red eyes. Helplessness – that's what Ivan wanted him to wallow in; the inability to do anything but watch and wait for whether or not Levy would make it. But Gajeel Redfox didn't _do_ helpless. Shorty would heal, and there was no way he was going to sit on his ass and drown in a pool of self-pity. It just wasn't happening. He didn't do helplessness, but _anger_ – anger he did very well.

And Ivan Dreyar and his band of batshit followers were about to feel the full force of that anger.

It didn't take long to find them. But then again, going by their little 'message' and their forfeiting of their place in the games, Ivan had to be expecting them.

That was fine by him.

They weren't their usual number. There was only himself, Salamander, Titania, Laxus, the ice alchemist and the old man, who'd given the others strict orders to stay put despite the clamour that had arisen at the command. Because the fairies were a righteous breed, and none had taken lightly the wrong that had been done to their own – especially three so adored as Shadow Gear. Gajeel knew better than most the chaos an action like that could set off. Ivan, however, didn't. And that would be his undoing.

So there were six of them, but they weren't going to need more. Not for this.

"Little Gajeel."

Metal-studded brows furrowed at the sickeningly sweet murmur of his name – the suffix a patronizing insult he'd had to endure with a forced grin for longer than he'd normally have the patience for. But even now he said nothing as they approached, calmly flanking the old man as he made his way towards his son. Makarov had his arms crossed over his chest, his brow furrowed in a look that was weary, but the deep lines of his face spoke of a fury that ran deeper than fatigue.

"Ivan."

The younger Dreyar's lips pulled back in a snarl at the sight of his father. "Makarov."

Tension was heavy in the air – heady, like the coming of a storm. Flanking Ivan was the rest of Raven Tail, silent as the two masters faced off. Gajeel felt his hands tremble in anticipation of ripping something off – at this point he didn't really care _what, _as long as it hurt sufficiently. And it would – he'd make sure of that.

Sensing his anger, Ivan smiled. "Did you like my present, Gajeel? A little too nostalgic, perhaps, but I couldn't help myself," he said with an almost sheepish smile, and Gajeel bristled. Something dark erupted from somewhere behind his ribs, and his vision almost blackened as the stench of blood flooded his nose. And he was back. For a split second, he was back in the alley, driven to his knees by the sheer force of the image before him – the nightmare-reality that had nearly driven him out of his–

A hand on his arm pulled him back sharply, and he turned his glare on Salamander's unusually serious face. "You okay?"

He didn't say anything, but inhaled deeply as he pushed the images back from the forefront of his mind. Sensing he wasn't going to go completely berserk, Salamander retracted his hand. From beside Ivan, the creepy-as-hell redhead grinned.

"I'll have the feisty one," she said, eerie eyes focused on Natsu, whose brows furrowed sharply.

"Fine by me. I still owe you for what you did to Lucy," he growled, to which her smile only widened. The alchemist stepped up beside them, hands in his pockets.

"I'll have the fat one," he declared. Titania had her arms crossed over her chest.

"For the doggish dude, I'll have the snake."

That left the creepy one with the hat, and Ivan himself.

"Old man," Gajeel said. "I don't really give a fuck that he's your son."

Makarov sighed, but turned his gaze to his grandson. "You'll back him up if he needs it," he murmured. Laxus didn't say anything, only nodded, arms crossed over his chest and a deep frown on his face.

Ivan grinned, holding his arms wide open before him. "My flesh and blood returns. You know, it's not too late to change your mind," he said. Laxus snorted.

"If you couldn't convince me before, old fart, the hell do you think I'd say now?" he muttered, stepping up beside Gajeel. "I know sorry doesn't do shit for what happened," he said, voice a rumble too low to reach the ears of the others. "But for what it's worth, I've got your back."

Gajeel snorted. "What I said still stands, Dreyar. If she doesn't make it..."

Laxus only nodded. "I know," he said, turning his attention to Obra, who looked stoic as usual.

Ivan's grin widened. "You look angry, Gajeel. My guess is the little one isn't faring so well? Should have thought about that before you went behind my back," he said, voice dropping to a dark tone that would have made a lesser man shrink back. "Treachery is a sinful thing – you got what you deserved."

The redhead turned her glare on Gajeel. "_I_ never trusted you – not for a second!" she hissed. "You'll pay for what you did – selling us out. What we did to little blue will look like child's play compared to what we'll do to you!"

Salamander snorted. "I think you need to shut up," he said. She smirked.

"Are you angry, _Salamander_?"

He raised a challenging brow. "You know, this is outside tournament rules," he said, casually, and now there was a grin on his face, but it was far from pleasant. Flames licked the air around him as his eyes darkened. "And you really don't want to see us play without rules."

Ivan snorted. "It won't end here, old man," he declared, eyes trained on his father. "This petty revenge you're after. Do you honestly think I'll go down before I see your end? I will have what I've come for."

Makarov scoffed. "Don't underestimate me, _boy_ – I've been a mage since before you were born."

Ivan snorted. "_Exactly_. The years are starting to take their toll. I know what happened with that fool, Jose," And at this a grin broke out on his face. "You're not the mage you used to be."

Laxus shot a look towards his grandfather. "Doesn't matter," he said, hands driven deep into his pockets as he turned a lazy eye on his father. "He's still a better mage than you will ever be."

The redhead's eye twitched, lips pulling back into an ugly snarl, but Ivan held her back. "Flare."

"I'll have his head for his impudence!"

Salamander cracked his knuckles. "I've got dibs on you, Red – don't forget that."

She hissed, but Ivan didn't pull back his hand. From behind him, the rest of Raven Tail were silent. He turned his gaze on Gajeel. "And you will be the one to take my head, is that right?" he asked.

Gajeel snorted. "Nah – head's too mild for you. I've got other plans."

Ivan grinned. "I'm looking forward to it," he cooed. "I'm assuming the girl isn't dead, then. You'd never be this calm if she was."

His fist clenched – anticipation brimming to the point of bursting. He inhaled deeply, pushing the urge to charge forward in mindless rage to the back of his mind. "You're right. And count yourself damn lucky for that."

Ivan only smiled, and Gajeel felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise in sheer and utter disgust at the sight. He'd revel in physically wiping that grin off his smug face. Behind him, Makarov's voice reached his ears – tone hard and lacking its usual warmth. "Leave no evidence. If Doranbolt cannot convince the Council, this will not be traced back to us."

Salamander cracked his knuckles, but there was no grin splitting his face. "Fine."

And so their hunt recommenced.

He'd known Ivan was a quick bastard, but the time spent in his company had taught him more than a thing or two about his magic. It was quick, yes – and had a force behind it to cut even the scales that encased Gajeel like a bodily shield. He was also strong, and had meddled with dark arts long enough to be considered a right dangerous bastard.

But whichever way you damn well looked at it, flimsy paper was no match for wrought iron.

The first connecting blow sent a shiver of perverse pleasure shooting through his system, and he spun around without preamble, driving his sharpened elbow into the man's stomach with enough force to crack a wall. The blow sent him skidding back a few steps, but the grin on his face spoke volumes of the effect.

Tch. Whatever. He was only warming up, anyway.

Around him, the others got down to business with a sharp efficiency that brooked no argument. It was unlike them, but they didn't have time for flashy performances – the sun was about to rise, and they needed to be done and gone before the city awoke. Arrows of ice sharpened to the point of blades whizzed past his ear, and somewhere behind him, the scorching heat of Salamander's fire was a sharp contrast to the gathering frost. A crack of lightning split the earth, and the air hummed and crackled with electricity as Laxus threw himself into the fight against his opponent. At one point, he ended up back-to-back with Titania, but he had little attention to spare for anything other than the grinning fucker in front of him.

Breathing in, Gajeel gathered his powers – feeling it simmer in the pit of his stomach, an internal forge awaiting his command to _create_.

"Ready, Gajeel?"

He didn't bother to answer the remark, and a split second later, he charged, iron scales gleaming grey and silver in the light of the early morning, fists hardening to sharp iron maces that drove forward with the intent to _harm_. His opponent retaliated without pause, sending a torrent of paper dolls that had him ducking out of the way, before spinning sharply on his heel. Inhaling deeply, he gathered his powers, lungs expanding with air like a cup filling to the very brim.

And then he _roared_.

This was no howl – there was no agony behind his attack, only unconstrained fury. He had no need to intimidate his opponent – no need to _perform._ No, this was pure, unashamed power with the intent to destroy everything in its path. Unheeded, untamed, it cut through the air – a cataclysm in its own right. And before his enemy could duck out of the way, Gajeel shot forward.

He'd always had a driving force behind his power. His general stubbornness and unwillingness to die had gotten him through life since he'd been a kid, and long since joining Fairy Tail had it been the source he turned to when an obstacle proved more challenging than first expected. He was stubborn by nature – adamant in his conviction to win, to succeed, to _live_.

The desire to _avenge,_ he came to realize, as his fist came in contact with the smug face of his former master, outclassed everything.

Because as he drove forward, bloodlust sharp on his tongue and vision dark with the need to hurt like _she'd_ been hurt, his driving force was a head of blue hair and a smile he would go to the ends of the damn earth to get back. And as his roar uprooted the ground beneath them, the source of his power – the overflowing well of energy which he pulled from with all his might – were the brown eyes he'd give his black heart and cursed soul just to see again.

The battle wore on, the clash of steel and the simmering heat of fire, but the sounds faded into the distance – a drone in his ears, joining the steady thrum of blood and adrenaline. Metal spikes materialized in his hands at a simple command, a replica of a pair he'd just hours before pulled out of another pair of hands – small, soft, fragile things that were meant to write and flip pages of old, dusty books in languages he'd never understand. The memory of a small lifeless form falling forward and into his arms, usually so warm but then so _cold_...

The spikes drove home without a second thought or hesitation, embedding themselves in hands much larger, coarser, _uglier_, but the force he put behind it would hurt all the same, he knew. Because he's the wielder of iron. It acts at his command, and his alone. Any other half-assed attempt would always be pathetic, because he is the iron dragonslayer of Fairy Tail, and if he wished to do a crucifixion _properly_, he wouldn't stop at metal cuffs.

"Enjoying yourself?" Ivan asked with a cough, blood forming at the corners of his smug mouth from where he hung, rooted to the wall behind him.

Gajeel snorted. "Are you?"

He grinned. "Oh, _immensely_. Although I must say I was disappointed by your girl," he coughed. "She's not much of a screamer. Must be dull," he grinned, raising a brow in challenge.

Gajeel sneered. From the corners of his eyes he caught the glint of Titania's blades, and the lapping flames of Salamander's fire catching the end of a long trail of red hair. The infuriated scream that erupted had a satisfied smirk tugging on his lips. From beside him, the form of his current master stepped up, arms crossed and an unreadable look on his face as he took in the sight of his son.

Ivan smirked. "Disappointed, old man?"

With a silent command, the nails nudged themselves further into the wall, eliciting a hiss from the man. Gajeel didn't flinch.

Makarov sighed. "More than you will ever know, Ivan."

Ivan snorted. "Don't give me that crap – like you're without blame in this!"

Gajeel snorted, diving the nails even further in. He didn't give much of a fuck about the history or whatever unresolved business Ivan had with his father, but pulling the rest of them into it – pulling _her_ into it – had made it _his _business. It'd be almost too easy – a nail through the heart. A finishing touch to his grotesque masterpiece.

"Gajeel Redfox."

He didn't bother to turn at the sound of his name, but recognized the voice of the newcomer – Doranbolt, or Mest or whatever the fuck his name was these days. On behalf of the Council, no doubt.

But he was surprised when, after casting a quick glance across the battered members of Raven Tail, the man only jerked his head in direction of Honeybone. "The sun is rising. I'd suggest you retire before someone catches you."

Makarov raised a brow. "And what will you tell them, when they see this?"

Doranbolt didn't flinch. "That I stumbled across them this morning. More than one guild in this city has an issue with Raven Tail. I cannot possibly know who did this."

Makarov nodded, before turning his gaze on Ivan. "Your courting with darkness will be your undoing, Ivan."

Ivan sneered. "I will find it, old man. Lumen Histoire!"

Makarov only turned his gaze away, turning to walk back to the guild. "Gajeel."

And casting one last look at the man before him, arms spread wide and nailed to the wall like a sacrificial figurehead, Gajeel turned to follow.

He'd wanted death – desired it so much it'd driven his mind dark with bloodlust. He'd wanted nothing more than to drive so many damn spikes through the man's body he'd look like a fuckin' hedgehog, but he was the old man's brat, and Gajeel already owed Makarov for hurting his children. The Council could deal with Ivan's ass – he'd had his blood and his revenge.

"He'll come back," he muttered as he brushed past his master. He didn't know how, but people like Ivan never stayed down for long. Makarov nodded.

"I know."

Gajeel snorted as he picked up his pace, catching up with Salamander and Titania as they waited for him, not looking back where the three generations of Dreyar were gathered. Upon his approach, Salamander nodded.

"The old man will deal with him," he said, before falling into step with him.

Gajeel didn't say anything. Because strangely, he couldn't make himself care. Couldn't make himself give a single flying fuck about the sadistic bastard pinned to the wall behind him. Because there was a bed somewhere, and his heart was on it. Black and corroded as it was, he'd handed it up the moment a pair of large brown eyes had looked him straight in the soul and _forgiven._

Ivan could rot in hell. Gajeel had better things to do.

* * *

><p>When he entered the bar, it was to a eerily solemn guild, but upon their entrance a chorus of chatter and questions broke out amongst the remaining members of Fairy Tail, eagerly wanting to know what had happened – what <em>would<em> happen, with the guild and the Council and Raven Tail and the tournament and–

Gajeel ignored it all, closing his ears to the madness around him and heading straight to the door at the end of the room. He'd leave the details to Salamander and the others. No one would question him anyway – not with things being what they were. He met Lily's eye as he crossed the room, and nodded once, brusquely, knowing his partner would understand. The Exceed nodded back, small arms crossed over his furry chest, before he turned his gaze to the others who had entered behind him. Beneath his heavy footfalls the floorboards were black with dried blood, but he pushed the fact to the darkest recesses of his conscious as he grasped the handle to let himself in, breathing in the quiet solitude of the dark room as the noise from the common room died out behind him.

The old hag rose at his entrance, giving him a sharp look that warned him not to make a mess before she headed towards the door, ushering the kid with her. As Wendy scampered past him, Gajeel placed a hand on her shoulder, gripping it gently but with enough force to make his intentions known.

She blinked at the gesture, then smiled at him, small canines flashing in a fanged grin full of confidence. "She'll be alright," she whispered, then went to follow the hag.

The door closed behind them, leaving him in the silence and semi-darkness of the cramped room, and his eyes drifted over to the bed in the corner and the small form resting upon it. The other two had been moved to the infirmary, not having been in quite the serious condition of their companion. They'd move her later, when her body had had enough time to catch up to the healing spells the kid had been dosing her with, but for now she'd be left as she was.

His feet took him across the small distance that separated them, and then he was standing next to the bed. He was a mess – blood and sweat and dirt caking his torn shirt and trousers, and he would have a shower and change of clothes before the next fight, but right now he just wanted to sit down.

The bed creaked slightly with his weight, but Levy didn't move an inch. Reaching out a hand, he nudged one of hers, bandaged and peeking out from the sheets that covered her. A dark frown pulled his brows down and his hands clenched against the mattress, shaking still from the adrenaline of battle. And taking in the sight of her, he almost felt like going back to give the man an extra few nails for decoration, but he shook the feeling off. He could have stabbed Ivan through the heart as many times as he'd pleased – it wouldn't make her wake up any faster. It wouldn't remove the bruises and the cuts and the healing holes of her tiny hands.

It was _something_, but it was far from everything. It was far from _enough_ – but he knew that it'd never be. He'd left the bastard alive for Makarov's sake – he was no longer Gajeel's business. His business was the bookworm, and that she recovered. The tournament could go to hell – the fuck was the point of showing off if the one audience he actually gave a damn about wasn't there to see it? But he'd compete for the guild, and for the old man, and for _her_, even if she wasn't there to see.

She didn't stir. Not an inch. Her eyes were closed, one a little more swollen than the other, and there was a cut in her lip and a bandage across her small nose that made her look a little ridiculous. He wondered briefly if this was how she'd looked after they'd found her all those years ago, pinned to the tree in what _now_ looked almost humane in comparison to what she'd been through. Bandaged from head to toe and lying so still, if it wasn't for the beating of her pulse and the steady but faint sound of her breathing, she might as well have been dead.

But she wasn't. Not yet.

"You're stubborn," he muttered, nudging her hand beneath the sheet, feeling incredibly awkward and way out of his depth, but damn it, he had to say _something_, didn't he?

He glared, as though that would make her wake up. "You're more stubborn than me sometimes, and that's sayin' something."

She didn't respond, but honestly, he hadn't expected her to. Not yet, at least. Turning his gaze back to the bookworm, Gajeel inhaled sharply. "Don't stop being stubborn," he grumbled. It didn't matter that she couldn't hear him. It was more for his sake, anyway. He just needed to say something – anything – to make up for the suffocating silence in the room. It was almost enough to make him crack a smile – she'd gotten him so damn used to her chattering, he was actually missing it.

Not that he would ever tell her that. He wasn't a complete pansy.

"I'll be headin' to the arena soon," he muttered. "You'd tell me to be careful or some shit like that, but I won't." He snorted. "You'd glower now, if you were awake. Hell, you'll glower when you wake up, 'cause I'll probably be a mess." She didn't move, but that was alright. She was breathing, and for now, that was alright. For tonight, he'd settle with breathing.

Tomorrow, he'd settle with a response. And then she would wake up, because she was a stubborn wench if he'd ever met one. And there was no way he'd let her go into a coma if he was going to be kicking ass in the arena.

Leaning back against the mattress, he allowed his body to rest, a heavy sigh pulling itself from his lungs as he stared up at the ceiling. He had to be ruining the sheets now, and the hag would have his head for that, but he honestly couldn't give a damn. All the fatigue that he'd ignored for the better part of the night was creeping in on him, but he refused to cave, blinking to keep his eyes open. The tournament would start soon, and he needed to be up and ready if his name was called for a fight. Somehow, he had a feeling it would.

He couldn't remember falling asleep, but he must have at some point, because suddenly there's a paw on his shoulder and he's jerking awake.

Lily regarded him with a knowing smile. "Sorry to wake you, but the competition is starting."

Grumbling under his breath, Gajeel swiped at his eyes, cursing under his breath at the crick in his neck. When he turned to his partner, Lily's gaze was firmly trained on Levy's still form on the bed. "Wendy says she's recovering," he said, his deep voice a quiet rumble in the room. Gajeel nodded, eyes also landing on the bookworm.

"Aa."

"Master says the games will continue like normal. There's rumours going around at Raven Tail's disappearance, but if anyone knows anything, they've not ratted us out."

Gajeel snorted. "Got too many enemies, the idiot." Pissing off an entire alliance of legal guilds was bad business – even for a man as crazy as Ivan Dreyar.

Lily smirked, nodding his head towards a pile of cloth at the foot of the bed. "Juvia brought them over a little while ago – said you might need a change of clothes."

Reaching over to rifle through the fabric, Gajeel snorted as he pulled out a piece of printed cloth. "Unbelievable. The hell does she want this to say?" he asked, dangling the headband in front of his partner. Lily grinned.

"Said something about knights carrying tokens for their ladies in fairy tales," he said with a shrug. "She was really excited about it. I think she hopes Gray will take a hint from it or something."

"Damn weirdo," Gajeel muttered as he took the pile. Lily jumped down from the bed.

"You should get cleaned up – you look like you've been through a bloodbath," he said. Gajeel grumbled.

"Close enough," he muttered, gaze shifting to the bed.

Lily's gaze softened. "The Master's got people watching her during the tournament. Porlyusica wants to have her moved to the infirmary during the break, in case she has to treat injuries there after the first match," he said. "I told her you'd help." Gajeel only nodded, rising to his feet.

Catching the cue to leave, Lily padded away. "I'll meet you in the arena," he threw over his shoulder, before sliding the door shut.

Gajeel watched him go before his gaze shifted back to the bed and the small form that hadn't moved. He wondered what she'd expect him to do. Not some sissy shit – she knew him better than that. But...he felt like doing _something_.

Looking down at the clothes in his hands, his gaze lingering on the headband peeking out amongst the shirt and trousers, and he snorted. "You're a fucking weirdo, Juvia," he muttered as he fished it back out, turning it over in his hand. A smirk tugged at his lips as his eyes shifted quickly to the bed, before he turned towards the doorway, fingers closing around the fabric as he made his way outside. The common room was almost empty save a few guild-members who greeted him as he passed through, but it hardly registered as he made his way outside and into the sunlight.

Token, huh?

The smirk on his face grew as he made his way towards the arena.

Hell, maybe it wasn't such a bad idea.

* * *

><p>AN: Sorry, Laxus – you got your moment of glory in the manga. We all know you're one bad mother seal, but I couldn't deny Erza a thorough whooping of Kurohebi (it's for the doggish dude). And I apologize for the lack of super-descriptive fight scenes – they're not really my cup of tea, but I tried to make them as natural for my style of writing as I could. And on a completely unrelated note, ALL HAIL THE LOVE!HEADBAND.<p> 


	11. stages of waking

AN: So, after the FUN-FEST that's been the last three chapters, it's time for the story to take a lighter turn.

Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail or its characters – Hiro Mashima does. Cover image is made by Rae.

* * *

><p><strong>part XI.<strong>

Waking was hard.

The thought was slow in coming, and her mind felt sluggish and heavy, like trudging through a deep swamp – the marsh sucking her down, pulling her, tugging at the strings of her consciousness. She couldn't even open her eyes, and the fact had panic blossoming up in her chest, but even that felt almost lethargic – like a slow-burning pain, starting from the roots of her heart and reaching all the way to the tips of her fingers.

Consciousness felt far-fetched, and her breath hitched in her throat as she grasped for it, but all it felt like was grasping for smoke. It came apart in her hands, slipped through her fingers, and despite her effort it was elusive, fluttering away and out of her reach. She felt a sob lodge itself in her throat, but could not get the sound out – could get nothing out, and suddenly she became aware of how much effort it took to simple _breathe._

Where was she? The question stood out amongst the chaotic state of her muddled mind, but she couldn't find an answer – couldn't find a reason for her predicament. No memories presented themselves. She could remember the bar–

_Iron spikes drove through her hands, and she threw her head back, the scream lodging itself in the base of her throat, choking her–_

–_laughter. And ravens. "J-jet...Droy"–_

–_more laughter. Ivan–_

–"_Gajeel...!"_

Hissing through her teeth, she tried to push herself up, but even the thought of how to do so seemed out of reach, like some long-forgotten language whose words she couldn't remember for the life of her. But she strained – strained to move, to get a bearing of her situation, her surroundings..._anything _but the suffocating dark that seemed to surround her on all sides, pushing towards her, crushing her beneath its intangible weight.

The pain didn't come slowly.

The pain came _crashing_, like an unexpected jolt of lightning from a clear sky, and the choke tore itself from her throat, and she coughed, lungs desperately pulling in air as her brain tried to make sense of the sudden weight on her chest, squeezing her ribs like a vice. And her _hands_...the scorching burn was enough to make whatever weak grasp she'd managed to get on her consciousness falter, dwindle, slip from her trembling hands...

She burned all over, her body like a scorching lead-weight. Her hands trembled, shaking as pain shot up from her palms to her elbows and her shoulders, and she wanted to cry out, but no sound would come past the coughs racking her frame. She couldn't for the life of her force her eyes open, and the panic fluctuated wildly, spreading through her aching body like the fire in her hands. And she didn't know where or how or _when_, and panic, and pain, the pain, oh the pa–

A rumble cut through her frantic thoughts, cut through the panic, and her breath hitched at the sound – familiar, gruff, _booming_...But it was muffled, as though she was ducked deep underwater, but that couldn't be right...Straining her ears, the sheer effort had her head swimming with pain, and she relented. It didn't matter, not right now. What mattered was the _voice_, because that was what it had been, and she'd recognize it anywhere. The voice. _His voice._

But she needed to see – needed to _know_, but despite her efforts, all she could perceive was a blur of colours. Other sounds reached her ears, still muffled like a slow-trickling garble, and she grasped desperately for the one that was important, but it'd disappeared in the cacophony. Panic lurched in her chest like a fierce thing, and she attempted to make her body do the same, to make them understand, to make them _help._..

The weight on her forehead had her alarm vanishing like vapour. It's warm and rough and calloused and familiar and _tangible_ and she grasped onto the feeling with all her might, straining her ears, her eyes, all the senses she could locate but couldn't for the life of her command.

"...ty..."

"...ye...Sho..."

"...hear..."

"...e...vy..."

"...Levy!"

Suddenly the weight was gone, and she felt like shouting – felt like expressing that she wanted it _back_, that it was her only lifeline and that how was she going to get back now...?

The marsh closed its soggy grasp around her and tugged her down, and she flailed, fought and _writhed_ in her struggle not to lose her grip on reality, however vague it was. Because _he_ was there, and he wanted her to wake, and she had to do something, say something...His name was on her lips, but her tongue was impossibly thick in her mouth, and the sounds refused to leave her, refused to be heard despite her efforts. She needed to tell him – needed to make sure he _knew_.

Making one final attempt, she forced her eyes to open. The blur of colours was chaotic, but the predominant one, filling her vision, was a dark looming shape–

–and then she was pulled back under, vision darkening as her consciousness slipped completely from her grasp.

* * *

><p>The second time, waking was easier.<p>

Of course, it still felt like wading through knee-deep mud against the wind, and pulling air into her lungs still took more effort than it should, but her hearing was better – sounds were no longer muffled, and it didn't feel like she'd been sucked far below water. Her eyes wouldn't open even if she tried, but the voices in the room were loud in her ears – almost painfully so, but it was a welcome pain – something tangible, in her struggle to stay conscious.

"How are the cuts?" the voice was light, young and female.

A gruff scoff answered, "Better. We avoided infection, for now at least." Also female, but older, hoarser. Her head swam as her memory attempted to place images with the sounds, but nothing presented itself.

"And the scar?"

There's no mistaking _that_ voice, though, and her heart skipped a beat in her chest at the low rumble.

"We will have to wait and see. I have done what I can."

"Hag–"

"_I have done what I can,"_ the voice snapped, and there was a sense of finality to it. Her mind felt too muddled to even attempt to work out what they were talking about, but she assumed it was about her. She wanted to move – wanted to alert them to the fact that she was awake, but she couldn't find the strength to make even her fingers twitch. It was like she'd forgotten how to – like the command to her brain wasn't coming through. The fact had a wave of nauseated worry roll unpleasantly in her stomach, and she felt like screaming, just to make sure she could.

But she couldn't. Fear lodged itself in her chest, gripping her heart.

"I'll keep an eye on her tonight, Gajeel," the murmur came to her left.

"Nah, get some sleep, kid – I'll stay."

"You should rest," the voice was admonishing.

"I'll rest _here_."

An exasperated sigh, then a scuffle beside her. A small hand on her forehead, the cold startling on her warm skin, but even the sensation wasn't enough to make her as much as twitch. A scream built in her chest, but wouldn't be released.

"Do you think she'll wake up soon?" another voice asked. It was further away than the others, but it was familiar all the same. Tired...but warm and kind and laced with concern.

"She was conscious before, but I don't think she understood what was happening. Right now her body is trying to catch up with the healing, so if she does wake she'll be a bit out of it."

"She _responded_." Gajeel – the name leaped out at her from the depths of her mind, a deeply cherished thing, the tones and syllables as familiar to her as her own. She wanted to smile, but couldn't make her muscles react.

"We'll see the next time she wakes," came the murmur, and Levy felt hopelessness curl its cold fingers around her heart. I AM AWAKE! The thought was there, loud and clear, but the ability to express it was as elusive as catching dust upon the wind. She felt like screaming again.

The scrape of a chair reached her ears, cutting through the quiet. "Go eat, kid – you've been here all day."

"Do you want me to bring you something? A spoon...or a doorhandle?"

A snort, a shuffle, and then the scamper of small feet.

And then quiet.

She wanted to say something – more than ever, she wanted to say something, wanted him to know she was awake. Remembering his sensitive ears – an errant thought, but a lifeline if she'd ever known one – she pulled in a breath, as sharp as she could manage in her muddled state.

The chair scraped against he floor roughly, pushed away. There's a weight on her forehead again, but it wasn't a small, cold hand – it was rough and warm and if she could cry she would, just out of the sheer sense of familiarityit presented.

"Shorty?" The question was careful – surprisingly tentative for the brash man she knew him to be, and she wanted to smile. "Oye – can you hear me?"

But most of all she wanted to answer. Wanted to shout at the top of her lungs, but she couldn't form the words, couldn't even fathom what sounds to create or where to find them. Her head swam unpleasantly, and she felt herself being pulled under again. She wanted to fight it – wanted to kick and scream and _stay awake_, but her body wouldn't allow her the luxury. Desperation tore at her mind – angry claws ripping through her sanity.

_**I AM AWAKE! I AM–**_

"Levy?"

Fatigue dragged her down to the depths of unconsciousness.

* * *

><p>When she awoke for the third time, it was to complete darkness.<p>

Blinking her eyes heavily, she found that it wasn't her vision that was dark – not this time. This time, the room was dark. Dark and quiet. Was it night?

Pulling air through her lungs, she winced at the pain that shot through her chest, but ignored it as she attempted to move her...well, anything at this point. Trying to move her fingers had her pulling a hissing breath through her nose at the pain that erupted from her hands, and her vision swam nauseatingly as she tried to gather her scattered wits. Okay, hands – not a good idea. Her feet were a little better, but something felt...wrong...with her toes, as though they were encased in something.

Blinking her eyes a little more, Levy tried to move her head, and found from her surroundings that she was in the infirmary, which made sense, in that she felt like she'd been caught in a rock-slide. Catching sight of the form on the bed to her right, and the blonde hair played across the white pillow, she felt a violent burst of concern cut through her jumbled thoughts.

_Lucy_..._?_

And suddenly, everything came crashing back – walking out with Jet and Droy, the terse conversation, the empty city streets suddenly _not so empty_...Raven Tail and Ivan and red hair and _iron spikes–_

Clenching her eyes shut, she knew with a heavy realization the reason for her body's inability to respond to her commands. Opening her eyes, she looked down at her hands, carefully laid out beside her, bandaged all the way from her fingers and up to her elbows, and she winced at the mere thought of the wounds underneath.

Calming her erratic breathing, she turned her gaze back to Lucy, a frown marring her brow. Lucy hadn't been there – hadn't been _near_ the alley...had she? No – it had to be the tournament then. That meant at least one day had passed...at the _very_ least. Maybe more. Turning her head again, she allowed her gaze to travel the room. Three more beds on her left side, one holding Elfman, she knew, and the other two nearest herself...

She inhaled sharply at the sight of Jet and Droy, and she felt tears pool in her eyes at the sheer and utter relief that crashed through her, and a smile tugged at her lips as her ears took in the soft snores of the larger of the two. If Droy was snoring, his injuries weren't fatal. Breathing out deeply, she let the thought settle her mind, and allowed her strung muscles to relax. The sheets were soft, tucked around her as they were, and the quiet of the dark room was soothing to the frantic mess that was her mind at present. Fatigue was still a heavy weight on her, attempting to pull her back down, but she fought to stay awake. Her head reeled with unanswered questions, but she had no voice and no strength to do anything more than simply stay conscious, and even _that_ felt like a feat.

She could feel sleep pulling at the lids of her eyes, but she was unwilling to fall asleep just yet – who knew when she'd awake next time? And she hadn't seen Gajeel yet – the thought reached out to her like a light in the darkness, and she grasped onto it with whatever strength she could find. Concern clenched around her heart at the thought that something was wrong, but she ignored it. He'd been there earlier, hadn't he? Or had she imagined that? In the hazy blur that was her jumbled memories, it was hard to tell if she'd imagined the whole thing, and the fact had another wave of panic washing through her. Had something happened...after? What had Ivan done...? Maybe it wasn't the tournament that had injured Lucy. Had Raven Tail done something? What–

The heavy footfalls from somewhere down the hall had her questions halting violently, and she held her breath, her eyes trained on the doorway, anticipation building in her chest, pushing past her fatigue and hurt.

Then the door was pushed open, and the sight of the dark towering shape almost had her heart breaking through her aching ribs and out of her chest, and she couldn't keep the smile from her face as she met his eyes. His expression was almost comical at the sight of her, awake and seemingly lucid, but then it was gone, and between one laboured breath and the next he was beside the bed, and she could only grin like a maniac, tears pooling in her eyes to trickle down the side of her face.

"Hey."

His brows pulled down sharply at the sound of her voice, and she grimaced at the rasping croak. He looked around, not doubt for a glass of water, and brought over the one from Lucy's nightstand. Reaching a hand behind her head, he cradled it, fingers splaying across the back of it as he lifted it for her to drink, and a shot of surprise went through her at the feel of it...as though there was almost no _hair_...

"It'll grow back," came the low rumble, and the fingers tightened in their grip. She could only nod numbly, putting her lips to the glass that was offered. The tepid water felt incredible as it trickled down her parched throat, and only now did she realize just how thirsty she was.

Placing her head back down onto the pillow, Gajeel placed the glass on the nightstand before turning his gaze back on her. She tried a smile, but it wavered slightly. "How bad is it?" she heard herself ask, her voice husky from sleep and lack of use.

He didn't say anything, but pulled up the chair that was sitting by the bed. Seating himself on the edge, he looked at her, his expression grave.

"Do you remember what happened?"

She nodded softly, searching her mind for the memories, but her brows pulled down as she had a hard time piecing them together. Frowning felt odd with the bandage across her nose, but she tried not to dwell on the discomfort.

"It's...I don't remember everything," she said. "Must have passed out at some point.."

His gaze darkened at that, and his eyes flickered to her hands, bandaged as they were. She followed his gaze, and inhaled a trembling breath. "Will...will they...?" _Will they heal? _she wanted to ask, but couldn't find her voice.

He nodded, brusquely. "Kid's been workin' on 'em," he said, and his tone brooked no argument, as though his will alone would make sure they did. She felt a smile tug at her lips.

"Okay." Her eyes flickered to his face, and the deep lines etched into his features. He looked angry, but then, he almost always did, but there were tired shadows under his eyes that had nothing to do with anger. "Are you alright?"

He snorted, as though she'd said something funny. She frowned, about to ask again when he cut her off.

"I'm sorry."

She blinked, caught off guard by the fervent remark, but her gaze softened as she caught the anguish on his face. "Gajeel," she murmured, reaching out with her hand, but the pain that shot through her when she flexed her fingers had an involuntary hiss pulling itself from her throat, and nausea pushed its way upwards from deep in her stomach. Her vision spun unpleasantly, and blood thundered loudly in her ears.

"Idiot! Stay still!" Gajeel snapped, closing his fingers over the hand and placing it down onto the mattress, muttering under his breath at her stupidity. She pulled in a shuddering breath. A cold sweat had broken out across her entire form, and she felt horribly dizzy.

"S-sorry," she apologized.

"The hell are you sorry for?" he muttered.

"What are _you_ sorry for?" she retorted.

His gaze was sharp, but she met it head-on, raising a brow for good measure despite the nausea threatening to overcome her. At her look, he grumbled under his breath, something that sounded suspiciously a lot like 'stupid' and 'smartass'. She quirked a smile, but felt it drop as a thought struck her.

"What happened to Lucy?" she asked, eyes shifting to the bed on her other side, although she didn't have the strength to move her neck. A dark look crossed his face.

"Sabertooth," was all he said, and left it at that. She frowned, but didn't push further. It was hardly surprising – other than Raven Tail, the second most ruthless team in the games was the one from Sabertooth.

"New style you're trying out?" she asked then, changing the topic as her eyes landed on his new shirt. He snorted, but a smirk tugged at his lips, as though at some inside joke.

"Aa."

She smiled. "Suits you better than the feathers."

He raised a brow at that, and her smile widened. "I thought they were ridiculous," she added with a small giggle, but the pressure on her chest had her coughing. He was on his feet then, his gaze stern and a curse on his tongue, but he said nothing as he helped her sit up a little to relieve the pressure. When the coughs subsided, her head was placed back on the pillow, and she inhaled a shuddering breath, a grimace pulling at her lips at the constricting feeling. Gajeel still said nothing, but seated himself back onto the chair. She met his gaze.

"Are we going to talk about what happened?" she asked, voice a whisper. "Or are you going to go around brooding? Because I'll be fine, you know, when I heal, and then it'll just be water under the bridge, but I know what you're thinking and I'll just tell you now that it's not going to happen, because I'm not running away and I don't want _you_ thinking about running–" A rough hand clamped over her mouth, stopping the flow of words, and she bit her cheek, worry creeping up her neck despite herself.

Then he rolled his eyes, and she released a relieved breath. "You talk too much sometimes, shortstuff," he muttered with a shake of his head as he removed his hand. A smile quirked her lips upward.

"Have to make up for the time I was out of it, don't I?" she whispered. He only shook his head, but a smirk tugged at his mouth, and her own widened. She wanted to reach out, but the memory of the pain had her hesitate. Besides, he'd only yell at her for being stupid.

She regarded him for a long moment, her gaze following the sharp angle of his nose and the lines etched onto his face – those meant he was worrying, although he'd never admit it. He was watching her intently, as though she'd vanish if he took his eyes off her, and she smiled at the gesture, although he probably wasn't aware of it himself.

"So you won't leave then?" she asked finally. He snorted.

"The hell would I leave now?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I don't know. You wanted to before."

His gaze hardened at that. "Too late now. Cat's already out of the bag and shit," he muttered.

She blinked, a frown tugging her brows down. "What do you mean? Did he do something? Ivan?" she asked.

He gave her a look, and she felt a bit silly. "Oh. Of course."

He sighed, but before he had a chance to open his mouth, she cut him off. "It wasn't your fault, you know," she said. "What happened...you couldn't have predicted it. Not so soon."

His brows pulled down into a frown, but she drove on. "I'll heal," she said – stated, because she _would_. Bones mended – her hands would, and her feet. Her hair would grow out, and she'd pick herself up and dust herself off, just like last time. Only this time she wouldn't have the fear for constant company. She wouldn't, because he'd be there. With all his disapproving glares, he'd be her strength when she had none.

"Hey," she said, and he lifted his gaze from where it had drifted down to her bandaged hands. She smiled. "I'll be fine. I'm stubborn, you know."

He snorted. "That's putting it lightly."

"I've learnt from the best," she said, raising a brow, before her gaze softened. "Was it bad? When you..." she stopped herself. "Who...found us?" she asked then, as the thought struck her that she had no idea what had happened between the attack and her current predicament.

Something dark flitted across his face at that. "I did."

She inhaled sharply. "I...thought that might have been his intention." She watched as his frown deepened, and wished she could reach out to touch him. "I'm sorry," she said then, and he was about to protest when she cut him off, her voice a whisper in the quiet room.

"No, I mean it. I...I wasn't the one he wanted to hurt. Not really," she said. "And I'm sorry he knew...and that he used it against you."

He rolled his eyes. "You're unbelievable, you know that?"

She grinned. "Thank you."

"Not meant as a compliment, Shorty."

"With you it rarely is, but I'm still taking it as one," she retorted, giving him a look. Gajeel glared, and her smile softened.

"Thank you," she murmured.

His frown was a dark thing. "For what?" And there was a world of guilt in that single remark.

She closed her eyes, choosing her words carefully. "For being a lifeline," she said, finally, opening her eyes to look at him. He had a contemplative expression on his face, as though he was weighing the entire situation.

Then he scoffed. "Think I'd let ya go that easily?"

She smiled. "I know you wouldn't," she said. "You're too stubborn. And I seem to recall you have a trouble giving up things that are yours."

"Damn straight," he said, but there was no smirk on his face, and the smile on hers dropped.

"What's wrong?" she asked, and startled a bit as he suddenly rose from his seat, and then there was a hand on her forehead again, and he leaned in–

–to...smell her hair? She blinked. Wha–

"Smell better," came the grumble. "Blood's gone."

She blinked again. "Thank you?"

His nose was in what remained of her hair, and he was so close if she'd been able to, she would have thrown her arms around him just because she could. And because she wanted to bury her face in his chest – they'd had way too little of that in their relative short relationship. She decided that when she got better, she'd glomp him at first opportunity.

And she might not let go. She was still deciding on that.

He breathed in deeply, and it was a weary sound. Her gaze softened, and she wondered how tired he really was. Had he slept since...? And what about the tournament? Had he been fighting? And–

"You over-thinking things?" came the rumble near her ear. A sheepish smile tugged at her lips.

"Maybe."

"Stop it."

She smiled, and breathed in, but grimaced and wished she hadn't. "Yuck, _you_ smell!"

A dark rumble ripped through him – laughter? It was hard to tell with him sometimes, but it made her smile nonetheless. "When was the last time you got cleaned up?" she asked.

"This morning," he retorted.

That meant he'd participated in the tournament. She wondered how it had gone, and made a mental note to ask him later. Right now she was content with his presence – sweat and dirt and all. He was probably better off than her, anyway.

"Does it really look as bad as it seems?" she asked.

Pulling back slightly, he looked her over, expression annoyingly unreadable. "Depends," he said then. She rolled her eyes.

"_How_ bad?"

He smirked. "The hair makes you look like a punk-rocker."

She snorted despite herself. "Be still my beating heart," she mocked, trying to contain her giggle, the pain a vivid memory, but she couldn't keep the smile off her face. "I'll just say you rubbed off on me," she quipped. He snorted, reaching out with a hand to a strand of hair having fallen across her forehead, but glared when it bounced back.

She smiled, and a sudden impulse struck her, and before she could question where her mental filter had gone, it was off her tongue,

"Kiss me?"

If the request surprised him, he didn't show it, but he raised a brow, and she could only grin in return. "That all you ever think about, shortstuff?"

She grinned. "It's pretty close," she teased. She could feel exhaustion tug at her mind, but stubbornly pushed it back.

He smirked. "Can't blame ya there."

"Don't get full of yourself, Gajeel Redfox," she warned, and was relieved to see the smirk turn into a grin. She didn't want him to frown – she liked it better when he smiled, anyways. Maniacal as they came, of course.

"Don't get excited, Shorty," he said, but leaned down nonetheless, and she smiled–

–but pouted when he only nudged her forehead with his nose.

"Get better first," he said, pulling back with a grin, and she glared.

"You're denying your injured woman a kiss?" she asked, giving him her best Eyes. He snorted.

"I'll kiss ya when you can take it, shortstuff – too much excitement now ain't good for ya. Hag's orders."

She rolled her eyes. "What did I say about getting full of yourself?"

He smirked. "Offer still stands stands. Get outta bed first."

"I won't break, you know," she said softly. He looked at her closely, as though determining the truth in her words and whether it was valid, and there was a dark shadow behind his eyes. She didn't like it. "I know...it won't be easy," she continued. "I'll have nightmares, probably, and...it'll take time for me to get back on my feet," she murmured. Then she set her gaze, resolutely.

"But I haven't broken yet, and I won't...not if you're there."

He was silent, contemplative, and for a long while they just looked at each other, his gaze searching, hers firm and unyielding. He'd backed away from her long enough. Out of fear or obligation...she didn't really care what his reasons had been or still were. She could give him a run for his money when it came to cold, hard stubbornness. He might be the wielder of iron, but he was far from alone in having an iron _will_. Things were going to be difficult, if last time was anything to go by, anyway. But she had him – she'd decided that, at least. _She_ wasn't backing away. Rather, she was latching on for dear life, and he was welcome to try and shake her off if he wished to. She wasn't letting go.

Finally, he quirked a smile. "Stubborn wench," he muttered.

"And don't you forget it," she said with a smile, before she felt a yawn pull its way free of her lips. "I'm sleepy," she murmured.

"Then sleep."

She looked at him. "Will you stay? Until I fall asleep?" she murmured. He didn't say anything, but pulled the chair closer as he seated himself.

"Gajeel?" she asked, closing her eyes as she felt fatigue close its hands around her aching form, pulling her down already as she spoke.

"Hm?"

Darkness enveloped her, but where she'd fought it before she now welcome the heavy weight of exhausted sleep. "I love you," she murmured, the whisper slurred as she drifted off, and at his gruff murmur, a grin spread across her face as she succumbed to her fatigue.

"I'll stay."

* * *

><p>The next time she woke, it was to sunlight and voices.<p>

"Oh! She's waking up!"

Blinking her eyes, the glaring light was like a slap to the face, and she squeezed them shut at the sudden onslaught of brightness. Her mind was a sluggish mess, and it took effort just to gather her wits. Where–

Ah, that's right. She was in the infirmary.

Inhaling deeply through her nose, Levy grimaced at the constricting pain, and suddenly every bruise seemed to stand out like a signal, and where she before hadn't been able to get a proper bearing of her own body, she was now well aware of everything. And that meant the pain as well. There was a scuffle of feet around her, and when she peeked her eyes open it was to a fanged grin in a smiling face.

Wendy looked ready to burst with excitement. "How are you feeling?" she asked, a concerned frown making her look years past her young age.

Levy swallowed heavily. "Bit thirsty," she croaked, a smile tugging at her lips. Her attempted humour did its trick, and Wendy grinned, reaching for the glass of water on the nightstand.

"Gajeel stepped out for a minute. He'll be irritated, but I told him to get some rest – he's been fussing. But then, they do don't they – dragons?" she rambled, her grin widening. "Well, I would know, wouldn't I?" She giggled, helping Levy take a few sips.

Levy smiled. "Thank you, Wendy," she murmured. Wendy smiled back, but it was a wavering thing.

"I wish I could have done more. I...I'll do my best, with your hands. They look better, though! Porlyusica's helped me a lot, and..." she stopped herself suddenly. Levy frowned.

"What?" she asked, voice a croak. "What where you going to say? Wendy?" her tone rose a bit at her question, her worry seeping through. What was she talking about? Wendy averted her gaze, and she frowned.

"I...she did what she thought was best. You'll see later, when it's healed," she said, and Levy was about to open her mouth to ask again when the door to the infirmary slammed open, and Gajeel stomped in with all the caution of some rampaging beast, his glare a sharp thing in the afternoon light. Catching sight of her, he stopped, and then he turned his gaze on Wendy.

"Told you to get me," he muttered as he came to stand by the bed. Wendy rolled her eyes.

"She woke only two minutes ago, and she was thirsty and I only have two hands," she quipped. "And this is an infirmary, you know," she reminded him. "Don't stomp."

He snorted, crossing his arms over his chest as he turned his gaze on Levy. "How is she healing?"

Levy rolled her eyes. "Hello? Invalid awake now," she reminded him in a hoarse whisper. "I'm doing fine, thank you for asking."

He raised a brow, but turned his gaze to the smaller dragonslayer, who only smiled. "Well, she's awake sooner than we thought, so that's a good sign," she said. "I don't think she'll be out of bed in a while, but...it's looking better than we expected."

By the relief in her tone, seconded by the dark look on Gajeel's face, Levy didn't even want to think about what they'd expected. Her body still felt unnaturally heavy, and she didn't dare move anything after what happened last time, and she still had no idea how she looked. Going from what little she did now, her hair wasn't in the best shape, but she could see faint traces of blue at the edge of her vision, and knew it wasn't all gone. So she was half-bald, maybe. She didn't even know how long she'd been out. Memories of what happened were still clipped and a complete jumble in her mind, but she'd need to sort those out later, even if it turned her stomach just thinking about it. But shutting it all in wouldn't make things better – it'd just make it all the worse when she finally did think about it.

A rough hand on her forehead had all her thoughts halting, and she blinked, staring up into a pair of red eyes. "Fever's better," he muttered, and as he pulled his hand away she almost fathomed she felt him brush away some of her hair. She smiled at the gesture.

Wendy hummed. "It's still too high for my liking, but I'll keep an eye on it so it doesn't rise throughout the day," she murmured as she went through a series of check-ups that Levy tried not to dwell on, other than when her small hands came in contact with a sore area...which was pretty much _everywhere. _She occupied her mind with watching Gajeel, who loomed like some kind of silent vigil above her.

"You know, it's kind of disconcerting, you looming like that when I can't even sit up," she said then, hoarse voice carrying a hint of humour. Raising a brow at her, he snorted, before he seated himself on the bed, surprising her as she'd thought he'd sit in the chair.

"Her highness happy now?" he asked. She grinned, and something...odd...flashed across his face, but her smile didn't falter. A smirk tugged on the side of his mouth.

"Did you get some sleep?" she asked then. He nodded, although she doubted it was much, going by the tired lines by his eyes. She frowned, and was about to comment on it when another voice had her query halting on her tongue.

"It's good to see you awake, Levy."

Turning her head – an action that required more effort that necessary, she noted – her gaze landed on Lucy's in the bed to her right, and she smiled. "Lu."

She grinned. "Hey."

"You alright?"

She snorted. "Not going swimming for a while," she said with a shrug, cryptically, and there was a shadow in her eyes – guilt, but it vanished just as quickly as it'd appeared. Levy frowned, and resisted the urge to pry. She already felt like she'd missed out on a lot, and the fact was horribly disconcerting.

Suddenly, Lucy's smile was very coy. "So you two were quite the romance novel last night," she said slyly. Levy blinked.

"Huh?"

Then she remembered, and her cheeks flared a bit at the thought of an unintended audience to her pain-induced rambles and demanding Gajeel to kiss her.

_Wonderful_.

Lucy grinned. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself. And this is an infirmary, you know. We all share everything – even the sappy stuff. Well, _especially_ the sappy stuff. What do you say, Elfman?" she called across the room.

"Concern worthy of a true man!" came the fervent remark, and Gajeel rolled his eyes, and Levy caught something suspiciously close to 'damn circus' as he muttered under his breath. She caught his gaze and smiled, and a smirk tugged his mouth upward despite his grumbling.

"Ask him about the love-headband, Lev," Lucy called from her bed. Levy raised a brow.

"Love-headband?"

Gajeel's eye twitched, and he shot Lucy a glare, to which she only grinned giddily. "That's what we're calling it, if you're wondering," she told him.

Levy blinked, thoroughly confused. "What is she talking about?" she asked Gajeel, who was pointedly not looking at her.

"Tell ya later," he grumbled, and Levy could only smile, although the itchy feeling that the world had passed her by during her coma persisted, and she tried to push it back. What mattered was that she was finally awake – awake and healing, and that was all she was going to dwell on for now. If she let her mind wander too much, she'd start thinking about the extent of her injuries, and thoughts like that would only make her paranoid.

Meeting Gajeel's gaze, she allowed her mind to focus on what was in front of her. No the impalpable fear of her hands refusing to heal properly and whether or not she would walk again, but the very tangible, very real dragonslayer who was by her bedside and looking for all the world like he had no intention of ever leaving. Remembering his words from the night before, she felt a grin tug at her mouth.

"You stayed," she murmured, as it it made all the difference. And it did, didn't it?

"Aa," he said, simply, but did she really need anything else? She grinned, and he smirked, and it was like an inside joke between them, and she loved it. Loved it, because it was so wonderfully dysfunctional – so him and her.

And who needed exclamations of ardent love when you had _that_?

* * *

><p>AN: Ah, dysfunctional fluff – my lifeblood.<p> 


	12. anchor

AN: I've taken the liberty to ignore one small detail regarding chapters 300-302: let us all just assume the mess with the graveyard and Arcadios has taken place in **the morning of day 5** and not in the middle of the night of day 4. It's a tiny detail, but hey, I like my plot sans holes. So this chapter takes place on the late morning of **day 5** right after the events of chapter 302.

Disclaimer: Fairy Tail and its characters belong to Hiro Mashima; I own absolutely nothing. Cover image by Rae.

* * *

><p><strong>part XII.<strong>

The feeling of dread would not leave him.

Rubbing a hand across his eyes, Gajeel sighed, grimacing at the tension in his shoulders and wondering idly when they'd get some damn peace and quiet. It seemed an age since the beginning of the games, and it hadn't even been a single week. Just four days – _four_ measly days that might as well have been four fucking _years_ for all the shit they'd gone through. And the worst thing was, he decided as he turned the corner, his feet taking him towards the infirmary of their own volition – he'd walked the halls enough in the past twenty-four hours to know it by instinct rather than sight – was that he had a bad feeling they were far from finished. And his gut had an uncanny way of always being right, whether he liked it or not.

Scowling, he pushed the thoughts of the graveyard to the back of his mind. He'd deal with it later – dwelling too much on it now would only give him a headache, and he'd had enough of those to last him a lifetime. The memory of the piles of dragon bones littered across the valley had something churning inside him, and he didn't like the shadow it had cast over the games. Not to mention the new mess they'd gotten themselves into with the bunny girl's arrest, and if that wasn't damn suspicious, he didn't know what was.

Rounding a second corner, he found himself in the hallway leading directly to the infirmary, and as he neared it his ears picked up the sound of voices – _her_ voice, soft and muffled, and the high lilt of the kid's. It had lost its severity when Levy had successfully pulled through the night, and now she sounded pleased – positive, even, which was hella lot more preferable than when she'd sounded a decade older than she really was. Kids her age shouldn't have needed to bother, but he doubted there was any going back for her, or that she'd want to go back. He knew how it was to have been forced to grow up too fast – most members of Fairy Tail did, in one way or another. And especially the dragonslayers.

The thought sent his mind back to the mounds of ancient skeletons and the mind-staggering fact that the dark dragon who'd all but obliterated Tenroujima had used to be _human._ Had used to be a dragonslayer.

Like him.

And the thought that there existed a possibility for him to end up like that had him feeling sick to his stomach.

As he neared the door, he didn't hesitate to push it open, and the conversation inside halted at his entrance. Not fit to move much other than her hands and to some extent, her legs, the shrimp was tucked in on her bed, the only one currently in the infirmary save Wendy herself. He assumed her posse had been discharged, as well as the brute, and that was fine by him. The less of a madhouse the place was, the more rest she'd get, and the lesser his headaches.

His eyes caught the freshly made bed on her right, and he felt a jolt of anger at the sudden turn of events that had left them one stellar mage short. If he'd learned one thing since coming to the capitol, it was that the entire business these guys ran was corrupt to the core. But he wasn't about to plunge into battle without thinking, even it they had her locked up somewhere. He felt his brows furrow as the thought struck him that she wouldn't even have been there if he hadn't let her tag along. After Shorty had fallen back asleep in the early hours of the morning and Gajeel had asked the kid to come along, bunny girl had decided she needed to join them, despite Wendy's insistence that she should have at least spent another night in the infirmary. But spending so much time with the idiot had made her annoyingly stubborn, and so he'd let her do as she pleased just so she'd shut her trap. Salamander would probably have told her to come along, anyway – the guy couldn't keep his mouth shut for long, either.

But the thought that it was somehow his fault wouldn't leave him. And fuck it all if that wasn't the last thing he needed. The guilt seemed to be piling up these days – what the hell was this guild _doing_ to him? There was a time where he'd have scoffed and gone on his way regardless of what happened to anyone else, but here he was, watching over a woman who had the charred pieces of his heart in a vice and feeling guilty for letting her loud-assed friend get herself arrested for whatever evil plot the creepy-as-hell captain was concocting.

He shook his head. Not _now_. He'd think about that later.

The kid sat on the chair he'd spent most of the night occupying, legs dangling over the edge. Levy grinned at his approach, then grimaced as the action had the bandage across her nose constricting, but there was good humour in her eyes, and it was a damn sight better than the pain that had been there since she'd fully woken up. "Hey!" she chirped, and he smirked despite himself as he came to stand beside the bed. Placing a hand on her forehead, he ignored the way she rolled her eyes.

"It's gone," she said, but he ignored her, looking to the kid for confirmation. She smiled.

"Her temperature's back to normal, and she's responding fully to the healing now. At this rate, it won't be long before she's out of bed," she said with a smile towards the bookworm. There was a haunted look to her eyes – bunny girl's predicament no doubt bothering her, and going by Shorty's good mood, she hadn't been told of what had happened. Which meant the kid probably expected _him_ to do it. And he knew the knowledge wouldn't serve to do anything but give her something to fret about.

Damn it.

Pushing the thought back to deal with later, Gajeel snorted. "Not happening. She's staying here until she's fully healed."

Shorty mimicked his snort. "I'm sorry, are _you_ the one who's bedridden? I'd like to be able to go to the bathroom on my own, at the very least!"

He gave her a look, eyes raking down her mostly bandaged form, and she sighed. "I feel _better_ – doesn't that count for something? It's not like I'll go _running_ out of here – I just want to...I don't know. See the rest of the games. Anything than be cooped up in here alone."

He snorted. "Tough luck, shortstuff. You'll have company when someone gets their ass handed to them in the arena. And you can watch it on the screen."

She stuck her lower lip out, eyes narrowing, but there was only annoyance there, not hostility, although he doubted she was truly capable of the latter. "What he means is, of course you can go out when you've rested more, and if you promise to be _careful_," the kid said with a wink, her eyes meeting Gajeel's, and the unspoken request for him to be the one to make sure she was careful was crystal clear. Levy grinned at the prospect, and she looked so damn happy he kept himself from saying he didn't really want her to be anywhere else when there was shit looming on the horizon that he had no idea how to prepare for. She'd only have rolled her eyes and told him she could handle herself. And though that might have been true once, with everything that had happened, he was damn well entitled to be a little sceptical.

"You look like you don't agree," she said then, and there was a knowing look on her face. He shook his head. His hand hadn't moved from where it splayed across her forehead, and he moved his fingers slightly to brush away the curl that kept falling into her face. He wondered how she'd react when she got a look at herself in a mirror – she hadn't asked for it yet, and even if he knew she wasn't one for vanity, he also knew hair was a damn touchy subject for most women.

And having half of it chopped off had to be hard on just about anyone.

But it would grow back. Hair mended without assistance, and it could be hidden – she could decorate it with a ridiculously flamboyant headband or something. Besides, no one in Fairy Tail would say shit about it if he had anything to say, and as for himself, he couldn't really give a flying fuck if she'd been completely _bald_. Because she was breathing. And she was awake. And she was _healing_. And damn it all if that wasn't more important than a few strands of hair.

A strange smile stretched across her face suddenly, and before he had a chance to react, she'd lifted her arm to place her bandaged fingers over his. She flinched slightly at the action, and he was about to yell at her for being stupid when her smile turned to a grin. And even if her eyes were watery with pain, he couldn't find it in himself to ruin that small victory for her. He knew the value of her hands, tiny as they were, and didn't even want to pretend to know what she had to have gone through when she'd woken up and had barely been able to make her fingers twitch without passing out.

Now she was in control, and he might be an ass, but he wouldn't take that away from her if he could help it.

"See?" she whispered. "I'm healing."

And the worst thing was, he didn't know whether she was saying it for her own sake, or for _his_.

Turning his hand around, he lifted hers as carefully as he was capable to place it back down onto the mattress, and he didn't miss the flash of disappointment that was gone was quickly as it had appeared. A smirk stretched across his face as he tightened his grip on her fingers, and despite himself he couldn't keep from feeling pleased at the surprise that settled on her face as his hand stayed where it was – holding hers.

And at the moment he couldn't really give a fuck that the kid was no doubt going to be telling the barmaid, who'd be telling the rest of the guild, who'd place bets and who'd never let him live it down. Because when she curled her fingers, stiff as they were, around his, he found that he'd put up with a lot more crap than holding hands if it'd make her happy.

"Is that a new headband?" she asked then.

He glared, and was about to retort when she beat him to it. "Is that the one Lucy was talking about?"

From across from them, the kid shook her head. "That was the love-headband," she said, and Gajeel wondered how the hell she'd been dragged into the bunny girl's schemes. "This one's the _replacement_," she supplied with a nod of her head.

Levy looked confused. "I feel like I've missed something vital," she told him, and he ignored the hidden question for him to tell her everything. The kid laughed.

"Juvia said it's his token!" she all but chirped, and he shot her a glare, but before he could respond, Levy spoke.

"Token?"

...and damn it if her eyes weren't bloody _glowing_.

Damn romantics and their damn obsession with fairy tales.

"It's for you, Levy," Wendy said, her grin pleased, and Gajeel felt his eye twitch.

"Like a true knight," the deep voice supplied from the doorway, and three sets of eyes shot to Elfman where he leaned against the frame. He grinned. "And a man!"

"The hell are you still doing here?" Gajeel asked.

"Don't be crude, Gajeel – this is an infirmary," the kid girl said. He snorted.

"More like a madhouse," he muttered under his breath.

Levy laughed. "This is Fairy Tail – don't tell me you're surprised?" she asked, eyes twinkling. And as if someone had coordinated the damn event, two familiar scents hit his nose before the sound of their voices, and he rolled his eyes as her accessories entered.

"Levy!"

"Lev, you're awake!"

Bandaged heavily and with more than one limb encased in a cast, they looked even more stupid than ever, and he'd have told them that if it hadn't been for the sheer and utter joy on Shorty's face.

Damn it.

"Guys!" she greeted them as they came over – or more like _limped_ over, and Gajeel felt a smirk tug at his lips at the glare Speedy shot him, but he didn't make any snide comments. And damn him if there wasn't a mountain of unspoken words between them, but he sure as hell wasn't going to be the first to breach it. If Speedy had a problem, he'd have to come out and say it. 'Like a man', or whatever the fuck the weirdo loitering next to the doorway would say.

"How are you feeling?" the fat one asked as he came to stand beside the kid.

Shorty's smile was wry. "Better, but well, all things considered. Itching to get out of here, though," she said, and shot Gajeel a look, which he promptly ignored.

"Not a chance," Speedy interjected, and she rolled her eyes.

"Not you, too, Jet – I can't stay cooped up here forever!"

"It's only been a day," Wendy spoke. "And you've barely been awake for most of it."

There was no arguing with that logic, but she pouted nonetheless. Speedy grinned. "Hey, we'll come keep you company! We can watch the games in here, and cheer from the sidelines," he said, his stupid grin ridiculously winning.

And of course it made her smile. Tch.

"Well I can't argue with you there, can I?" she asked. "I know I have to, I just...I don't like being bedridden," she said with an uncomfortable shrug, and something flashed across her face that had Gajeel's brows furrowing, and he was acutely aware of Speedy's glare cutting into him. But he ignored it, because he could damn well recognise his own past mistakes without having them pointed out.

'Course, he didn't tell him that. Perhaps he should have, because suddenly there was a thick tension in the room that hadn't been there before, and if he hadn't been itching for some damn privacy with just the kid present, now he was very much aware of all the people in the suddenly very crowded room.

"So...Jet, how are you holding up?" Shorty asked then, in an attempt to break the silence.

Speedy quirked a smile. "Despite the cast? Better. Porlyusica wouldn't let us occupy the beds any longer, though – needed 'em if there'd be a fight today. Sounded like she thought the entire guild would end up needing medical-attention." He shook his head. "She's a right positive gem, isn't she?" he laughed.

The kid smiled. "Don't say that too loud, Jet, she'll hear you."

He shuddered. "Good advice. I've had more than my share of her trying to _glare_ me better," he muttered with a shake of his head.

Levy raised a brow. "She's been really nice to me," she said, and silence seemed to sweep across the room like a scythe. She frowned. "What?" Gajeel pointedly avoided her gaze, and her fingers tightened around his.

"Hey, look at the time," Speedy said then, after a moment of sheer uncomfortable silence. "Do you want anything to eat, Levy? Or something to drink? We could get it for you."

Her frown deepened. "What aren't you telling me?" she asked.

"It's nothing," Gajeel spoke up – the tone of his voice brooking no argument. Her eyes shot from her team and up to meet his, but he had his gaze planted on Speedy. "Hag's got a soft spot fer midgets," he said with a nod at the kid, who turned her head away.

Levy sighed. "I'm not going to pretend I can't see that there's something you're not telling me," she said, and if she could have crossed her arms in defiance, he knew she would have.

"Then don't," he retorted. "Just leave it for now – it ain't going to help ya get better." She opened her mouth, but he gave her a sharp look, and she closed it, although her eyes didn't leave his. "You'll know soon enough," he grumbled. She frowned, but said nothing.

Then the kid spoke up. "Gajeel, maybe you should tell her about what happened."

He refrained from snapping at her that it was the least logical thing to do, but the look she gave him left no room for argument. And maybe she had a point – maybe the bookworm didn't want to find out about the bunny girl's capture from the news or from someone else. And if she found out he'd been there and let them drag her off, and then having kept that information from her, she'd be up and off the bed to yell at him.

And as if right on cue, "What is she talking about?"

Gajeel shook his head, attempting nonchalance. "Nothin' serious – just a complication."

She frowned. "What kind of complication?"

He actually caught himself feeling bad for evading her question again – he really had turned soft. But he wasn't about to unearth everything they'd learned with her accessories hanging about. "It ain't important – just dragonslayer business," he said, and damn it if her disappointment wasn't like a slap to the face. And even worse – the knowing look that told him she knew all too well that he was bullshitting her.

But she didn't say anything else, and he felt his free hand twitch, wishing to talk to her alone but unable to with all the damn people–

"Hey, Jet and Droy, why don't we leave them alone for a moment?" the kid spoke up as she rose from the chair, her eyes meeting Gajeel's. "They probably want a moment to themselves," she said with a fanged smile even as she began to usher the two towards the door. "You'll call me if anything happens, yeah?"

Gajeel only nodded, but his eyes were firmly trained on the bookworm, who looked as though he was about to deliver her news of the impending end of the world.

And maybe he was. Hell if he knew what was going on.

"Jet – you coming?" the fat one asked as he stood in the doorway. Speedy stood his ground, and for a moment Gajeel wondered if he'd have to chuck the idiot out on his ass, but then he turned to leave.

"I'll get you some breakfast, Levy," he said as he walked towards the door, and she nodded softly.

"Okay."

He sounded...resigned, and Gajeel felt that more had passed in that exchange, but it wasn't any of his business. As long as Speedy knew his place, he had no problem with him. "A man knows the value of privacy," the weirdo added as he moved to follow, closing the door behind him as he stepped out.

And then they were alone.

He knew she was looking at him – could feel her damn inquisitive gaze like the heat from a fucking fire, and knew that if he met her eyes he'd tell her everything. And _she_ knew this, too. And a while ago, that would have pissed him off. But things had changed, and now it only annoyed him that she knew him too well for her own good. Or for his own good.

He sighed. "We found a dragon graveyard," he said then. No point in beating around the bush, and if he was going to tell her about what had happened to the stellar mage, she might as well know the surrounding circumstances.

Her brows pulled down into a frown. "A dragon...graveyard?" she asked, and something in her eyes reflected the panic he'd first felt upon seeing it. But he'd rather admit defeat to the brats from Sabertooth who thought they were dragonslayers than admit he'd been afraid, even if it had been only for a second, that the remains his Pops had been amongst the bones.

"It weren't any of ours," he assured her, and she breathed a sight of relief that almost had him feeling...touched. Almost, because he didn't do those kinds of sissy feelings, but that didn't mean her empathy had gone entirely unnoticed.

"We discovered some shit that might complicate things," he continued. "Connected to Zeref, like every other fucking mess in this world," he muttered.

"The root of all evil, it seems," she murmured, and his brows furrowed sharply as he took in her bandaged hands and face.

"Not all evil," he grumbled, remembering his former master. He wouldn't have been surprised if he were to discover that Ivan was after some of the evil wizard's secrets, but what had been his driving ambition as long as Gajeel had worked for him had been the downfall of Fairy Tail. Which, seen in light of all the nutters who wanted to raise the dead, cleanse the world of non-magic beings or just downright destroy everything, was a remarkably small ambition for such a humongous psychopath.

She quirked a smile. "Well, that's something, at least," she said, finding humour in this, for some weird-assed reason. But he'd heard somewhere that close encounters with death had a way of making people able to joke about it more. "At least we don't have to worry about Zeref joining forces with Ivan Dreyar," she said with a shrug.

He snorted. "Idiot's got too much of a one-track mind to take over the world."

She laughed at that, and he shook his head at the bizarre conversation. It wasn't something to joke about – not when things were what they were. But she was laughing, and even if it was over such a morbid subject, it was better than nothing.

When she sobered, she took a deep breath, and when she looked at him there was no trace of humour in her eyes. "There's more, isn't it?"

He nodded, and breathed in through his nose, before he spoke. "Acnologia."

A twinge of fear passed across her face at the name of the entity that had nearly killed them all in a single breath, and he remembered the feel of a small hand clutching his for dear life as they waited for their end to come. And the thought struck him again that the dragon had once been human. Had once, perhaps, had a guild, with comrades and a master. Perhaps he'd even had a woman.

And Gajeel wondered, were he to lose himself – were any of them to – would he think twice about whose life he took? Would his mind be driven away to the point that he'd lose sight of his comrades? Would he even recognise the eyes looking up at him now, or the voice that was as quick to remind him of her affections, as it was to reprimand him for his scowling? The thought was numbing, and the unfamiliar coils of fear curled themselves around his insides, rendering him cold to his core.

No doubt she picked up on this, because suddenly she was alert. "What's wrong? Gaj–"

"Acnologia used to be a dragonslayer," he said then, cutting her off, and her mouth hung open as she stared at him. And there was real fear in her eyes now, sharp as a knife and piercing. But it wasn't fear of the dragon, he realized. It was fear for him, and the fact that her thoughts had taken the same route his own had only made things worse, if that was even remotely possible.

"_How_?"

Her voice was a rasp, and her disbelieving eyes had gone even larger. And the small hand in his tightened its grip, as though that alone could keep anything from happening – as if that alone could keep him with her and away from the future he was presenting.

And he found that if anything ever did happen, and he forgot the sound of her voice and the sight of her eyes, he hoped he'd remember her touch.

And even though he hated the fear in her eyes, he told her everything. About the kid's magic trick, and the spirit they'd encountered. About the war and the dragons' choice to give humans the ability to slay them.

And...about Acnologia.

When he was finished, there was a hollow look to her eyes, but her brows were set in determination. "Promise me that won't happen to you," she said then, after a silence.

He snorted. "As if I'd be that stupid."

She shook her head. "It's not about being stupid. You said the more they dabble...the further they go..." she stopped herself, brows furrowing as she seemed to have trouble finding her words. "It could happen. You saw Natsu that time, in the cathedral..." she trailed off, eyes haunted by the memories.

He didn't say anything. He knew, of course. And he remembered perfectly well. Remembered her voice drawing him away from his opponent, remembered how fucking angry he'd been at her sheer stupidity of following them when Laxus had shown no scruples with hurting her in a saner state of mind. But most of all, he remembered Salamander. He'd been a twinge awed at the time at the sheer force behind his attacks, and the driving determination that had seemed to unlock some hidden well of powers Gajeel himself had not been able to tap into. Now, the thought held no awe and no jealousy. It was cold, hard fear that lodged itself in the roots of his black heart. There was a line now, and it could be crossed. Salamander was known for resorting to drastic measures rather than giving up in a fight. How far did he have to be pushed to lose control completely? How far did _Gajeel_ have to be pushed? He remembered the feeling – the dark, irresistible urge to go after Ivan that night in the alley. The need to hurt like she had been hurt. When he'd found Shorty pinned to the wall, the mockery of a sacrifice, he'd been two seconds away from doing just that; what had held him back had been _her_. Her need for medical attention had, in that moment where his grasp on his own sanity had seemed all but lost, trumped the need to avenge. But that didn't erase the fact that he'd felt it. With every fibre of his being, he'd known a lust for blood so savage it made him sick to his stomach just thinking about it. He knew it with a clarity so sharp it almost staggered him. The urge to kill – to _disembowel_ his enemy and tear him limb from limb like a raging beast.

Like a dragon.

"Gajeel?"

His eyes snapped back to the bookworm where she regarded him with furrowed brows, and he realized his grip on her hand had to be hurting her. Loosening his fingers slightly, he didn't say anything as she tightened hers in response. "What is it?" she asked.

He looked at her. Looked at the visible evidence of his former master's vengeance. The bandages wrapping around her arms, the casts around her small feet. The shallow cuts were no more than small pink scars now and her bruises yellow rather than black – courtesy of the kid's heavy doses of healing spells. But the evidence lingered, and even if they were to fade completely with time, he knew there was something she would carry for the rest of her life, hidden under the bandages across her stomach. He hadn't told her that, and neither had the hag or the kid. And they wouldn't. Not yet. For now, it was enough that she was alive.

And as he considered that thought – considered her tilted head and the enormous eyes looking up at him, Gajeel found he knew exactly what it would take to push him over the edge – to drive him to the deprived state of being that had shaped and formed Acnologia all those years ago.

It was her.

The steady beat of her pulse through his hand where it gripped hers was like a comforting hum in his veins. It had been the first thing he'd sought when her small form had fallen into his arms that night, released from the iron nails holding it up, and he'd searched for it every five minutes that first night in the makeshift infirmary. It had been an anchor in his state of barely repressed fury and bloodlust, keeping him grounded. If he lost that...

If he lost _her_, he'd lose himself.

"Gajeel?"

Her voice was soft as she spoke, and he realized he hadn't said anything since his last comment. He shook his head. His thoughts – his stark realization of his predicament – hung over him like a lead weight, both a promise and a threat. And he knew with a certainty that seemed to reverberate through his entire form, that he would never tell her how much his sanity depended on her survival.

"It won't happen to me," he said in stead, but he didn't know who he was trying to convince. Her frown told him his confidence was hardly reassuring, but she didn't say anything, only gripped his hand tighter, and he realized she was tugging him towards her.

And he relented. Because it'd been damn long since he'd kissed her, and because the future seemed little more than a dark pitch of misery from his current vantage point. But her mouth was soft, and the small, cold nose nudging against his was as much of a proof that she lived as the breath fanning across his jaw. Her stiff hand slipped out of his to tangle in the hair on the back of his neck as the other curled tentatively at his throat, and she tugged him closer, and if it hadn't been for the desperate undertone to her actions, he would have smirked at her eagerness.

Reaching down, he sneaked a hand around her head to cradle the back of it, tilting it slightly to make up for her awkward position. She smelled like medicine and clean sheets and nothing like the ink and dusty old paper he was used to, but it wasn't death and it wasn't blood and he'd take anything else if it meant she was alive and breathing against him. Slanting his mouth against hers, he pushed all thoughts of dragons and portals and the future away from his mind, settling in stead on the present and the soft form pressing against him. Despite her bandages, the soft skin of her throat was warm and exposed, catching against the callouses on his fingers as he trailed his free hand up and along her jawline. And the same desperation that fuelled her seemed to seep into him, and before he could check himself and remember that she was still injured and semi-drugged, he clutched her to him like a starving man. She responded in turn, and made no show of being in pain as she pushed herself up, her bandaged fingers pulling him closer even as she was rising to meet him.

"Not a good idea," he growled against her mouth, his fangs catching against the soft skin of her lips, but she swallowed the words.

"Shut up – it's about damn time, is what you mean," she retorted, almost under her breath, and a soft chuckle followed her remark.

He snorted at her sass, but didn't pull away from her, sliding his hand down the slope of her neck to her collarbones peeking out from the half-way buttoned flannel shirt that covered her bandages. The fabric slid away without much resistance, and he caught her sharp intake of breath as his hand came in contact with the skin there, and he felt her shiver against him. When she made no move to make him stop, and no sound that indicated she was in pain, he let it travel downwards, and this time he did smirk at the heat that rose in her cheeks at the realization that she was quite without any form of underwear.

He chuckled, the sound from somewhere deep in his throat, and she pushed herself up to angle her mouth towards his, no doubt to stifle the sound. He grinned against her lips, and deliberately traced his hand down the swell of her breast, and the responding gasp had a slow coil of satisfaction unravelling from somewhere deep within him, and a growl seemed to bubble in his throat without his consent. Her hands had left his hair in favour of his shoulders, and for once he was damn glad he'd ditched the feathers, for bandaged as they were, her tiny hands felt damn good against his skin. A light stroke of his thumb across an exposed nipple had her arching her back with another gasp, and his blood thrummed in his ears in response to the reaction. Her hands sneaked from his shoulders to his partly-exposed chest, and again he felt a surge of satisfaction at his new choice of garments. Pushing her shirt further off her small frame, he let his fingers travel form her breasts down the curve of her ribcage–

–only to halt upon reaching her gauze-wrapped midsection, and for a second the deep thrum of his blood in his ears and the simmer of pleasure within him was replaced by a shock of cold realization.

Noticing his halted actions, Levy pulled away slightly. "What's wrong?" she breathed, dark eyes searching out his, but they were firmly attached to the heavy bandages exposed by her now completely unbuttoned shirt. She followed his gaze, and her brows furrowed. "What's that?" she asked then, as though only now realizing the bandage was there.

One of her hands slipped from his chest, but he caught it before it could touch the gauze, and she startled, looking up into his eyes, confusion pressing through the daze that had overcome her during their ministrations.

He didn't say anything, only looked at her. Her pupils were heavily diluted and her breath came out in short puffs, and her flushed cheeks had a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. She smiled a little, although her eyes were haunted, but she didn't push as she pulled him closer again, placing her lips against his, and he almost grinned as she placed his hand back where it had been–

A throat clearing behind them had her startling like a deer, and Gajeel looked up to see the hag in the now open doorway to the infirmary, a scowl on her face to rival one of his own. Levy squeaked, and scrambled to pull her shirt closed.

Porlyusica had her arms crossed over her chest, and the tone of her voice was dangerously low as she spoke. "I thought I made it clear she needed _rest,_ brat," she said as she came inside.

Gajeel, having pulled himself away from the bookworm, crossed his arms as he raised a brow in challenge. From beside him, Shorty seemed quite intent on straightening the rumpled sheets, and he didn't bother to tell her that it was a little late for that, that if anything, with her cheeks as red as they were and her eyes as dark, the state of the sheets wasn't what betrayed their activities.

Stepping up to the bed, the old woman regarded the script mage with a raised brow. "I see someone's getting better," she sneered, although for some reason, there wasn't half as much malice in her tone towards the girl as towards everyone else. Gajeel frowned, and then the hag turned her narrowed gaze on him.

"And what do _you_ think you're doing?" she snapped, and despite himself, he flinched. There was something about her that had the ability to render all the mages in Fairy Tail into errant children, and he hadn't been scolded like that since before his Pops left.

"Porlyusica," Levy started, but a glare from the woman had her clamping her mouth shut and averting her eyes. Gajeel snorted, and the woman levelled him with another sneer.

"Makarov is looking for you," she grumbled. "It's about the blonde."

Levy's gaze snapped back to the two of them, and Gajeel realized he hadn't really gotten that far in telling her about bunny girl's situation. Well it was her fault for distracting him, wasn't it? But somehow he didn't think she'd accept that as an excuse.

"Blonde?" she asked. "Lucy?"

The hag raised a brow at her, then turned to Gajeel. "You haven't told her?" she asked, and Gajeel glowered.

"I was going to," he snapped, and she snorted.

"Well make it quick – the first round is about to start," she said, before turning her attention back to Levy. "Are you in any pain?"

She grimaced, and her hand twitched slightly. "A little," she admitted, and the old woman only scoffed to herself as she felt her forehead, before checking some of the bandages and the healing cuts and bruises.

"Well, you can blame it on _strenuous_ activities," she muttered under her breath, and the bookworm blushed a very deep red as she followed up with, 'damn hormonal brats'. When she was satisfied with her check-up, she levelled Gajeel with another glare. "You'd better get to talking, boy, if you're going to be at the arena on time," she grumbled before she turned to head back the way she'd entered. She wasn't even out the door before Shorty spoke up.

"What's happened to Lucy?"

The severity of her tone told him she knew it wasn't trivial, but she seemed more eager to know what it was than angry at him for not telling her. He sighed. "The higher-up's have got her," he said then. "Had her arrested along with the punk from Sabertooth – the stellar mage."

Levy frowned. "Yukino?"

He nodded, and her brows furrowed further. "Is–were they hurt?"

He snorted. "Bunny girl's not supposed to be out of bed, but I'm guessing they're just detaining 'em."

"But what for?" she asked, leaning back slightly into the mattress. Gajeel looked at her, wondering if revealing too much would upset her. But then he figured he'd already said most of it, so he might as well say the rest. And it didn't take long to explain the concept behind the crazy captain's plan – it was simple enough, and he watched as her frown deepened as he explained what they planned on using the portal for. When he was done, there was a thoughtful look on her face,

"Changing the past will have consequences," she said.

He snorted. "Didn't seem like he'd thought much about it."

"Well at least he's not out to _join_ Zeref," she remarked, and Gajeel grumbled under his breath. "What?" she asked.

He shook his head. "We'll see. Guy's still too damn suspicious for his own good, and he was the one who tried to have blondie kidnapped in the first place, you know."

She nodded. "I know – I was there when Ivan told you."

He blinked, and she tilted her head slightly with a smile. It seemed like a lifetime ago, like everything that had happened in the past few days. But he hadn't forgotten about the incident with her eavesdropping – it was, in a way, what had set off the chain of events that had led them to where they were. But sometimes he forgot how much she actually knew about him, and whenever he thought about that he couldn't help but wonder why the hell she even bothered. A saner woman would have ditched his ass a long time ago.

But she'd proven more than once that she was more than stubborn enough to give him a run for his money, and after everything that had happened, he wasn't about to push her away. Not when he'd fought so damn hard just to keep her.

"So...what will you do now?" she asked. The same question they were all asking themselves, and which no one could seem to find a satisfying answer to. Half the guild wanted to ditch the games and just go after the stellar mage, while some wanted to win the games and make them let her go as they'd said, wishing to avoid a confrontation. And even if Gajeel was itching for a good fight, he had a feeling the best course of action was to lay low and plan their course. Discretion being the better part of valour, and all that crap. This wasn't a single enemy they were up against – it was an entire army. And if the other guilds disagreed with their actions, then a full guild war could break out, which was definitely _not_ good.

"We'll win the tournament," he said then. "And if they don't release her...we'll give 'em hell."

She nodded at that, and looked down at her hands. She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. "No."

She sighed. "If I'm better–"

"No," he cut her off again. "No way in hell, Shorty. It ain't happening."

She looked at him, brows furrowed in defiance, and he glared right back, taking her challenge head-on. After an intense moment, she sighed, but she didn't look away. "Then you'll fight for me," she said. "You'll make sure you get her back safely." It wasn't a question – it was a statement. Hell, it was a demand, if he was any judge.

He snorted. "The hell kind of Fairy Tail mage do you take me for? 'Course we'll get her back."

A smile broke her frown in two, and she shook her head. "You're such a contradiction sometimes," she muttered under her breath, and Gajeel just grinned. Her eyes lit up then, as though she'd just remembered something, and she turned her gaze towards the bed the bunny girl had occupied the night before.

"Wendy said Lucy had left something for you," she declared, her eyes on a small shape sitting on the crisp white pillow. Gajeel raised a brow, but turned to retrieve it. Whatever it was, it was wrapped in white cloth, and weighed close to nothing. He frowned, wondering what the hell the girl had been up to. She was damn cheeky sometimes, and all the way to the graveyard she'd tried to hide her smiles at his new headgear, which he'd promptly ignored. His back was to the bookworm as he unfolded the cloth, already assuming it to be some kind of teasing gesture, but his hands stilled as he pulled out what had been inside.

Levy's headband. Stitched and mended, and with a new rosette adorning it.

And not a single trace of blood.

"Gajeel? What is it?"

He pocketed the headband before he turned back to the script mage, who was straining her neck to see. "A favour," was all he said, and even if she had the curious twinkle in her eyes that usually got her into trouble, she didn't pry for more information. She only nodded, and there was a smile on her face that made him wonder if maybe she knew what it had been.

"Don't you have a match to get to?" she asked then, tilting her head to the side, and he snorted.

"Don't get cheeky," he growled as he stepped up, seizing her by the chin and kissing her. She laughed against his mouth, and when he pulled back to leave, her smile was brilliant.

"Be careful," she murmured, and he flashed her a fanged grin.

"Always careful," he said, and now it was her time to snort.

"No you're not."

He shrugged as he headed for the door. "Don't get into trouble," he called over his shoulder as he left.

"I'm _bedridden_ – how could I possibly get into trouble?" she called back, and he snorted to himself, knowing she'd find a way if she put her mind to it.

Closing the door behind him, he headed down the corridor towards the arena, knowing he was late but not really giving a damn. The entire business with the tournament was shady as fuck, and he was tired of being played like a damn pawn. They all were.

His hand closed around the mended headband in his pocket, and his brows narrowed as he stalked down the hall. Idiots always made the same mistake in thinking Fairy Tail would willingly bend to their wishes. If they'd made it a point to learn from the mistakes of others, they'd have known that the guild was never _forced_ into doing anything – they did as they damn well pleased. They could have stormed the castle for the damn princess if they wanted to, but there was some damn suspicious shit going on in this city, and if anyone could figure out what, it would have to be someone on the inside.

And the King of Crocas had just landed himself the loudest and most annoying prisoner they could have possibly found. A girl who had the uncanny ability to make allies of just about anyone, and who was a right pain in the ass as a hostage. Hell, Gajeel should know – he'd done the same mistake himself.

Pulling the headband from his pocket, he twined it around his wrist, the rosette pressing against his pulse and partly hidden by the rest of the fabric closing over it. Tying a deft knot, he didn't so much as halt in his tracks as he continued down the corridor.

They would win the tournament. If only to buy more time to figure out what the hell they were going to do with the damn doomsday-machine parked smack in the middle of the palace. They'd win, and if the bunny girl hadn't driven their army mad by then or sicked her spirits on them, they'd take down the entire city if that was what it took. They'd been up against a disillusioned king before, and he'd learned of Fairy Tail's wrath the hard way. And it would seem these idiots were determined to do the same. But that was fine by Gajeel.

And if they hurt the blonde he'd personally hand their sorry asses to the fire-idiot for a good roast.

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><p>AN: GIVE EM HELL, LUCY. This arc has me on the edge of my seat, and I've pictured hundreds of different scenarios – none of which are very pleasant, mind you, but ALAS, I can only hold out the hope that Mashima will see them safely through. Again, my deepest apologies for the shamefully late update, and I can only hope the chapter made up for the wait.<p> 


	13. brand

AN: You must have forgotten all about this story by now, but it's not finished yet, and it's far from abandoned. As I'm trying to keep up with an ongoing arc, Mashima's choices influence my own, and thus, the updates on this story won't be as regular as I would like. I do, however, plan to keep going until the arc is finished, but I can't guarantee weekly-updates and such. Alas, I will endeavour to make it worth your wait.

Disclaimer: Fairy Tail and its characters belong to Hiro Mashima; I own absolutely nothing. Cover image by Rae.

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><p><strong>part XIII.<strong>

Not long after the door had shut behind Gajeel there were footsteps in the hallway, and it swung back open to reveal Jet and Droy. Still limping slightly with their respective casts, Levy wondered briefly how Jet was able to balance the tray in his hands, but balance it he did, moving towards the bed with measured steps. Whatever it was, it smelled wonderful, and her mouth watered at the prospect of food. It had been a good while since she'd eaten anything substantial.

Seeing her eager gaze, Jet's grin was pleased. "Bet you're hungry," he declared cheerfully as he came to her bedside, pulling up a chair as he placed the tray on the nightstand. Momentarily embarrassed, Levy adjusted the rumbled sheets that surrounded her, but neither of her teammates seemed to have noticed that anything was amiss. Which was good, because she had no intention of explaining _that_. Porlyusica had been more than enough.

Waddling across the room, Droy settled on the bed Lucy had occupied while Jet set about helping her with her food, removing the cloth and picking up the spoon. Levy gave him a look, and his face fell. "What?"

She smiled. "I can move my hands, you know. See?" She wiggled her fingers, and tried to keep from wincing. "I can feed myself."

He looked dubious, but placed the tray over her legs, regardless. It was a bowl of soup and a cup of warm tea, and the slices of a peeled orange. She didn't need to taste it to know that the soup would be asparagus and the tea black with milk and honey – they knew her better than anyone. Even so, the thoughtful gesture made her smile. "Thanks, guys."

They both returned the smile, if not a little sheepishly. "It's the least we could do. You should be comfortable, since...well, you know," he stopped himself, suddenly awkward, and a heavy silence fell between them.

Levy forced a smile, hoping it would ease some of the tension. "Well, I _am_ comfortable, all things considered," she said as she reached for the spoon laid out for her, if only to give herself something to occupy herself with. Taking a tentative mouthful, she sank a little bit further into her mattress in contentment, and her stomach rumbled in happy response. Her reaction made them smile, and the pressure between them lessened ever so slightly. For a few moments, neither of them spoke – simply left her to enjoy her meal in peace. The three of them were the only ones in the infirmary, and the thought made her think about Lucy, and her joy died a little as she absently stirred her soup. Gajeel had said they would get her back, and she didn't doubt they would. The entire situation just seemed eerily familiar, although last time, Levy had been unconscious for most of it and had only heard about Lucy's capture in the aftermath. Even so, the whole mess smacked of something foul.

As though sensing her darkening mood, Jet opened his mouth to speak, probably to break the tension that had crept back into the room and disrupted the comfortable silence. "So...the games will be wrapping up soon. You think we'll win?"

Her lips quirked despite herself. "It wouldn't be very Fairy Tail of me to think anything else, would it?" she asked as she blew at her soup, thankful for the distraction to her thoughts. There wasn't anything _she_ could do, anyway. Just sit still and hope everything worked itself out.

"Gajeel will probably be fighting in the finale," Jet continued, and Levy resisted the urge to sigh.

There it was.

"Considering that he's part of the team, _yes_, he probably will. But that's not what you want to talk about," she said, and met his gaze squarely with her own.

He said nothing, and Levy placed her spoon back on the tray. "Jet, I don't want to argue–"

"I know."

She blinked, and he smiled, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't want to argue, either. I don't _like_ it, but...I can live with it."

She raised a brow. "_Just_ live with it?" she asked, a smile tugging at her lips.

He shrugged again. "It's the most I can promise right now," he said, honestly.

She smiled, his grudging acceptance a pleasant surprise. "It's all I need," she said, as she picked up her spoon again.

Then Droy spoke up, "For what it's worth...as long as you're happy, Levy, I like him." She looked at him, taken aback, and he smiled. "He's been very attentive – even you can't argue with that, Jet."

Jet snorted, crossing his arms. "And he's been a possessive ass, too, did you forget that? All but threw us out yesterday _and_ this morning."

Levy laughed. "That's just how he is, Jet."

"And there's the headband," Droy piped up, and Jet groaned.

"Not _you_, too, Droy! Everyone's on about that bloody headband! It's just a headband!"

"It's a _token_," Droy said, tone teasing, and Levy could only watch in amusement as they bickered.

"It's a piece of headgear without any meaning whatsoever. He probably just put it on to hide that receding hairline of his," Jet muttered.

"Jet!" Levy admonished, although the giggle tumbled off her tongue before she could stop it.

Jet smiled, emboldened by her good humour. "He's not fooling anyone. This 'token' business is just something Juvia has been telling people."

It was Droy's turn to raise a brow. "Someone's jealous," he said then, and Levy froze with her spoon halfway to her mouth. It was such an unexpected address of what had been an enormous figurative elephant between them for some weeks, she felt as though someone had pulled a rug from beneath her without warning, tipping her world off its axis. Jet spluttered, incredulous, but couldn't' seem to come up with a suitable comeback. And Levy held her breath, eyes wide and not knowing which of her friends to look at and afraid that if she so much as made a single noise, chaos would break out.

Then Droy's face broke out into a grin, and Jet was shaking his head, smiling as well, and suddenly, _startlingly_, as though someone had turned on the lights in a dark room, there was no elephant anymore.

"Yeah, well, if _I _had started wearing a headband, I don't think anyone would have noticed," he said as he leaned back in his chair. Levy shot him a look, reaching for her cup of tea. The warmth felt good against her hands.

"I'm sure that's not true, Jet," she said, although she couldn't help but feel that it sounded half-hearted.

Jet merely raised a brow. "We never stood a chance, did we, Droy?" he asked with mock-hurt, shaking his head. "It's the piercings, isn't it?"

"It's the singing," Droy said, and Levy almost choked on her tea. Jet grinned.

"Maybe I should get a fedora," he mused, and Levy had to put down her cup to keep from spilling it all over herself.

"You'd need a suit to go with it," Droy remarked dryly, and Jet snorted a laugh, and Levy could only watch in bewildered amusement as her boys, her dear boys, and the two people she would have thought would have had the hardest time getting over her budding relationship with Gajeel, joke about it as though it didn't phase them in the least.

"I'd rather get a white suit than piercings, thank you," he said, and shot her a grin and a wink, and suddenly, Levy _understood_.

They'd always told her they'd do anything for her, but she'd never considered the actual implications of that promise. For her, 'anything' had just been to make sure she was safe during missions, and cook and care for her when she was sick. She knew they'd always be there to carry her books for her and lend her support when she'd need it. But grinning at her from their respective seats on each side of her, the subtle yet undeniably protective positions such a typical thing for the two of them, Jet and Droy had just proven that 'anything' was so much more than that. It was, quite literally, _anything_.

Even accepting the man they had mistrusted for so long, just because it would make her happy.

"Oye, Levy! What's wrong?" Jet was on his feet, concern having replaced the amusement on his face, and it was only then that she realized she was crying.

"Huh?"

He laughed as he reached over to swipe away the tears from her cheeks. "Jeeze, Lev, next time give us a warning!" he scolded, and she swatted at his hands, embarrassed.

"Sorry," she apologized sheepishly, reaching up to wipe at her eyes.

He smiled. "I know we're not that funny, but our jokes have never been so bad we've made you _cry_," he said, and she rolled her eyes.

"You're impossible, the both of you," she scolded, but the smile on her face was hard to remove, and they only laughed at her, and she found herself joining in. It was a good feeling. Familiar. Like it had been, before Phantom and Tenrou and the games. Back when they'd just been Shadow Gear, and had relied mostly on each other. Now there was a chasm of seven years spent apart, and _Gajeel_, and she'd feared the latter would be what would eventually sever the tentative tie between them that had formed after her return from the dead. She knew they had tried to make things go back to what they had been, and she was ashamed to admit she had not been trying quite as hard. For her, there was no seven-year gap, and after the exams most of her attention had been directed elsewhere...

But as she regarded them now, her wonderful, silly and overprotective boys, Levy found that she'd do anything she could to keep that tie intact. If they were willing to accept Gajeel despite everything, then she was going to do her damnedest best to fit all three into her life.

...even if they were bound to go at each other's throats once in a while.

"Hey. Hey! You can daydream about him when you're alone, Lev," Jet chided playfully, pulling her out of her thoughts.

She raised a brow. "Who said I was daydreaming?"

He snorted. "The look on your face."

"And who says I wasn't thinking about you two?"

It was Jet's turn to raise a brow. "Don't give us ideas now," he quipped, but despite the joke, there was a shadow behind his eyes that had her regretting her words. Perhaps it was too early to joke about things like that.

She shook her head, eager to change the subject. "I was just thinking that...even if things have changed, that doesn't mean they have to change _completely_," she said, hoping the significance of her words wasn't lost on them. "I still want us to be a team," she added for good measure.

And even if he tried to hide it, the look of relief on Jet's face was almost frightening in its intensity. "Yeah?"

She grinned. "Yeah."

"What about Gajeel? Wouldn't you want to go on missions with him?" Droy asked, and she shot him a sceptical look.

"Once in a while, maybe, but his idea of a good mission is...well, hazardous to anyone _not_ made of iron," she said with a shake of her head. "I think I'll prefer doing missions with you guys."

Their joy was palpable, and for a few blessed moments she forgot all about her injuries and the infirmary and the games and everything that had happened in the past few days. For a few moments, it was only the three of them. Shadow Gear. And with the chaotic mess that the games had turned into, the simple familiarity of her team and family was like a steady lifeline.

Picking up a slice of orange, Levy found she was thoroughly enjoying herself. Perhaps the rest of the games wouldn't be so bad, even if she were to be stuck in bed. Maybe they would even let her out for the final match and the following celebration, if she'd healed to Wendy's – and Gajeel's – satisfaction. They'd discharged Lucy even if she'd been far from fully healed, and Jet and Droy were up and about despite their casts. The finale was two days away, and Wendy had said she'd recovered surprisingly fast already. But going by the shadows under her eyes, Levy had wondered if perhaps her speedy recovery was solely due to the fact that the dragonslayer had exhausted herself by healing her non-stop. Back during the war with Phantom, they hadn't had a healer, and so she'd spent _days_ comatose in the hospital. And considering the difference in the extent of her injuries between then and now, logically, she shouldn't even be awake, let alone sitting up.

She wondered idly how much of her energy the little dragonslayer had sacrificed for her to have woken up so soon, and the thought had guilt unfurling in the pit of her stomach. She wasn't the only one who needed medical attention in Fairy Tail...

"You okay, Levy?"

She blinked, and when she looked up both Jet and Droy were looking at her with concern. She forced a smile, "Yeah," and almost winced at how unconvincing she sounded, and it only served to deepen the worried looks on their faces. But then their expressions brought to mind something she had been thinking about earlier.

Frowning, Levy regarded her long-time friends and teammates with furrowed brows. "Will you be honest with me about something?"

They blinked, looking sideways at each other, before turning their eyes back to hers. "Of course," Jet said, speaking for both of them, although he sounded doubtful of his own words. Levy steeled her gaze.

"There's something you're not telling me–" Jet grimaced, and she sat up straighter. "There! You know what I'm talking about," she declared, crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned back on her pillows. "Tell me."

Jet looked uncomfortable, caught in the sudden spotlight, and he looked to Droy for help. "Uh..."

"It's nothing you need to worry about," Droy tried, but she rolled her eyes.

"So I've been told, but I still want to _know_," she said, her tone leaving no room for rebuttal. Gajeel was too stubborn to argue with, but in her experience, Jet and Droy were incapable of keeping things from her for very long. If she pressed, they would relent.

Jet looked towards the door. "Should we see if we can't get a screen in here or something? For the match?"

Droy nodded, and Levy felt anger flare in her stomach. "_Guys_!" she snapped. "What is it? What aren't you telling me?"

They looked at her then, and the guilt in their eyes was like a smack to the face, but despite her plea neither made any move to explain what is was that they were so clearly avoiding. Hurt flashed across her face at their reluctance, and she sank a little deeper into the mattress. The comfortable silence from before was gone completely, and she was left feeling like everyone was dead set on keeping her ignorant. She had figured it had something to do with her wounds – some kind of complication they hadn't told her about yet. Whatever it was, the two in front of her weren't going to tell her, so she would have to figure it out on her own.

Fine.

"Maybe you should go look for that screen," she said then, changing the topic. She hadn't meant for it to sound biting, although her words made them flinch, but Levy found she didn't care. It served them right, for keeping her in the dark when she knew they were hiding something. If they wouldn't tell her, then the guilt was theirs to live with. It sounded petty, even to herself, but she stubbornly pushed the feeling away.

Droy looked at Jet, who nodded heavily, and then they made for the doorway. Before they exited, Jet turned back to look at her. "I'm sorry we can't tell you," he said then, and he sounded genuinely apologetic. Something about his continued refusal had fear clenching in her stomach, but she forced a smile on her face.

"I'll take your word for it," she said, and she could tell her stony acceptance bothered him, but he turned to leave regardless.

"We'll be back soon," he told her, needlessly.

"I won't be going anywhere," she said back, and winced at how cutting the comment sounded. Neither of them said anything else as they walked out of the infirmary, closing the door behind them and leaving her alone with her thoughts. Listening to their receding footsteps, Levy waited a whole five minutes before she deemed the coast to be clear.

Inhaling deeply, she steeled herself, biting down on her lip in concentration as she shifted her weight on the mattress. Her feet were pretty much useless, but she could move her legs without much trouble, and although it hurt, she could move her hands enough to push herself up and into a better sitting position. It irked her that even such a trivial thing as _moving_ should render her breathless, and a slight peppering of sweat had broken out across her forehead, but she clenched her jaw and pushed the pain away.

She had to find out.

They were hiding something from her – and not making a very good job of it – and she wanted to know what it was that had them all so edgy around her. Really, it was _ridiculous_. After everything, did they think she would break down at the sight of some injury or another? Wendy had said she'd heal and that her hands would work, and as she could see and speak and hear without problem, Levy couldn't see what it could possibly be that had them so high-strung and...remorseful. It was disconcerting, to say the least. Even Gajeel wouldn't tell her, and he was usually so brutally honest about everything, at first Levy had decided she didn't even _want_ to know.

But she was, if anything, a horribly curious person, and although it usually served to get her into trouble, she had made up her mind that whatever they were hiding, they weren't going to be hiding it for much longer. She would have to find out sooner or later, and since she was cooped up in the infirmary she might as well occupy herself with _something_.

Pushing her covers down, she blushed at the sight of her unbuttoned shirt, but a small smile tugged at her lips at the memory, and then she was grinning like an idiot. And it didn't matter that she was injured and bedridden and that everyone was keeping her in the dark – she really couldn't have been happier if she'd been given every book in Fiore.

Then the sight of the bandage had her thoughts halting in their tracks.

Gajeel had distracted her before, when she'd asked about it, and if that hadn't been suspicious, Levy didn't know what was. When she thought about it, Wendy hadn't mentioned anything about any wounds to her stomach, but her heavily gauze-wrapped midsection begged to differ. The bandage covered everything from her lower abdomen to her ribcage, and a sudden, desperate fear lodged itself in her throat as she came to the realisation that she had no idea the extent of the wound underneath. And in her desperation, her hands moved of their own accord, clawing at the bandage with fervour despite the pain shooting through them, and a choked sob escaped as her trembling fingers ripped the gauze apart.

She had to know. If this was what they were hiding, she had to know what kind of wound it was. There was a reason Gajeel had prevented her from touching it, and as she tore away the wrappings with almost hysterical urgency she couldn't even stop to think about the fact that there had to be a _reason_ for him to want to hide the wound from–

Her hands stilled as she peeled away the last layer of bandages, but the pain as the gauze caught with the stitches and coagulated blood barely registered as her eyes came to rest on what it had been hiding. It wasn't a wound. Not like her other injuries were wounds – like her healing hands and the cuts on her face.

It was a _brand._

And even if the mark leaping out at her from the pale, stitched skin of her once smooth stomach was the shape of their own treasured symbol, the fairy with its mysterious tail, there was no escaping the fact that it was a cover-up. And for one horrible, heart-stopping second, all Levy could see was another symbol etched onto her skin. The corrupted mockery of the mark they all bore with so much pride. Not a _fairy_ with a tail.

A raven.

Something horrible tore itself from her throat – a hoarse cry that sounded shrill even to her own ears. She felt suddenly detached, staring at the mark as though it were someone else's stomach – someone else's brand. It was surreal, almost. It was like the time so long ago, when she'd awoken with a scream and fumbled for the sheets, pawing at her stomach in search of a wound that wasn't there. Because Phantom Lord's symbol hadn't been carved into her skin. When she'd awoken in the hospital, the war had been over and the mark on her stomach scrubbed off. All that was left had been raw skin and the faintest outline that had faded with time and a few showers.

But _this_ _brand_ could not be scrubbed off. It would not fade with time – it would _scar. _That had been the intention. A permanent reminder_–_

"_...betrayal is one of my least favourite things, you know."_

The sudden memory almost made her recoil, and terror clenched around her heart as something within her loosened – a mental padlock clicking open and falling away.

"_Sloppiness is another thing I can't stand. Let's be thorough this time, hmm?"_

She hadn't thought much about what had happened since she'd awoken. It wasn't that she'd kept the memories at bay – they just hadn't been so clear. She'd thought it had been because she'd been unconscious throughout most of the assault, but as images and sounds leaped out at her from somewhere within her, she came to the staggering realisation that she hadn't been unconscious. She'd been _awake_.

A strangled sound caught in the back of her throat, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from the mark. It stood out, stark and clear against her skin, and then all she could see was the memory of being held down even as she struggled and trashed and _fought._ Laughter cut through her befuddled thoughts, a piercing sound etching itself into the fabric of her mind like the slow, measured carving of the mark on her stomach. The _brand_ she had been given. A symbol of betrayal, and a message intended to _hurt._ And it must have – the thought stood out against the cacophony of her subconscious like a brand of its own. She knew it must have hurt him, as Ivan _had known_ it would.

And that only made it worse, somehow.

And suddenly, all her memories came rushing back at once – a jumble of sound and images crashing against her with enough force to make her physically jerk away. She remembered walking with Jet and Droy, remembered being so _happy_, and then Jet and gone and ruined it by telling her he didn't trust Gajeel. Droy had been reluctant to agree, but she could read them better than any of her books, and she'd known he hadn't been too keen on the idea, either. And she'd been _furious_, because after everything they'd done together, they'd always supported and trusted her decisions, but when it came to her heart, they'd felt the need to interfere?

Jet had taken the bait, and they'd argued, and Droy had tried to settle things, playing peacemaker, but she'd been too angry to think straight. So much had happened in just the span of a few days, and she'd thought of all the people, her two closest friends would have at least had the decency to be happy for her. It had been dark, and the streets had been empty, and the silence that had followed her scathing remarks had been _deafening._

And then clapping. She remembered clapping. The mockery of applause, and the curling smile of a man she'd hoped never to see face-to-face, as he stepped out of the shadows, flanked by the twisted and subservient members of his guild.

It hadn't been like the time with Gajeel, but in some ways, it had been exactly like that time. Gajeel had taken them by surprise, too, but he'd gone straight for them. He was that sort of predator – he didn't waste his time circling his prey the way Ivan did. He went for the jugular – simple and without preamble.

Ivan liked to watch his prey squirm.

And they'd known, then, that if they were getting out of it alive, it was because they were going to be made examples of. Levy had known it, and she knew her companions had to have felt the same staggering familiarity of the situation. And she'd wanted to tell them than it wasn't Gajeel's fault – that it had nothing to do with him at all. But she hadn't been able to, because it hadn't been true, had it? It might not have been his fault, but it had had everything to do with Gajeel.

And Ivan had told them this, too, with the pleased satisfaction of a man who thoroughly enjoyed playing games with his subjects. And despite the fact that Levy had been told of the full extent of Gajeel's job, hearing it from the twisted man himself had been enough to turn her stomach. And then there was the fact that Jet and Droy hadn't known, and had, of course, taken the news badly. She'd mustered a reply, despite the horror that had clawed at her insides, and told him, not without a waver in her tone, that she'd known all along. She hadn't known if it would be a good idea, but she'd known that if she was going to die, the last thing she'd wanted to see was his grinning face.

In the end, it hadn't helped. He'd said so himself, before he'd issued the order for his guild to attack, but she'd caught the dissatisfied downturn of his smirking mouth just before something had collided with her head.

After that, things were a blur. She'd been up against the woman who had hurt Lucy, and if she'd thought she'd fought dirty in the arena, she had little mercy outside of it. She remembered Jet's strangled yell for her to get away and _run_, but she wouldn't have been able to even if she'd tried. Ivan hadn't attacked them simply to let them run back to Fairy Tail. Jet and Droy might have gotten away if they'd put their minds to it – or Jet certainly could have, but Levy knew they would never have let _her_ get away. And she knew they wouldn't have left her even if she'd begged them to.

So she'd fought – fought, and hoped for a way out, but it had been useless. Whichever way she'd turned, there had been another member of Raven Tail to push her back down. She'd gone down more than once, but stubbornly picked herself back up. And all the while, Ivan had been standing on the sidelines, watching with a strange smile on his face.

"_What do you want?!"_

Her head had been shoved into the dirt, and there had been a fist in her hair, yanking her face upwards so she could watch him walk towards her. She could remember Jet cursing as he was held down, but her attention had been swallowed entirely by the man heading towards her, each slow, confident stride like a physical blow. Then he had knelt in front of her, the ugly smile still in place on his face, and despite her desperate attempt at staying calm, she hadn't been able to stop the terrified shiver that had almost made her jerk away from him.

"_Retaliation_," he'd said simply, but before she'd been able to process the words, the hand holding her hair had yanked sharply, tearing a hiss from her lips.

It wasn't until the moment she'd been shoved onto her back, thick coils of bright red hair holding her arms and legs in place, and the feel of something razor-sharp piercing the skin of her belly that she'd realized just what he'd intended to do.

Hands shaking violently, Levy reached for the carefully carved and stitched symbol, tracing it and feeling her throat close at the fact that it would _never go away_. And unlike the symbol on her back, the mark of pride and confidence, and _willingly_ _taken_ the day she had joined Fairy Tail, the future scar on her stomach would never hold those associations. It would be a reminder, like all scars were, only this wouldn't be a fun anecdote to tell or a warning to keep in mind. It would be the source of nightmares – a mental wound as much as a physical one. Irreversible.

Desperation drove her, and despite the fact that she knew better, she tore at the stitches, because she couldn't stand the implications it brought, couldn't stand the memories it evoked when she looked at it. The laughter echoing in her ears cut like a knife, and her cry was hoarse as she clawed at her midsection. Tears blurred her vision, and she hissed through her teeth as white-hot pain shot from her stomach and her injured hands, but she couldn't _stop_–

"_My, isn't this nostalgic?"_

"–_such a pretty picture you make – let's make sure he has no trouble finding you, hmm?"_

"_You know, I don't have a cross, but this will have to make–"_

"–_**EVY**__!"_

Only when the sobs racking her body were too great for her to focus and her eyes so blurry with tears for her to see did her hands still their desperate mission, and by then the white sheets around her were covered in blood. Just like the cobblestones digging into her back as the brand was etched onto her skin and the hair holding her down, the colour was _everywhere_.

Pushing the sheets away from herself, Levy tried to scramble away from the bed, the sight of the bright red colour seeping into the pure white sending a surge of terror crashing through her. And despite the casts on her feet and the bleeding wound on her stomach, she pushed herself away from the bed and the mattress.

It wasn't until she hit the floor that the realisation of what she had done struck her, in tandem with the feel of her head striking the tiled floor of the infirmary. The shock had her vision swimming, and she felt a wave of staggering nausea swell in her stomach, but she couldn't find it in herself to move, let alone call for help. Her world had tilted, and her vision was going black around the edges as she rested her gaze on the doorway. She would have willed the door to open, but she found she didn't even have strength left to think straight. Warm tears pooled in her eyes, only to run down the side of her face, and the floor felt slick where she lay, curled into a heap with her useless feet and her bandaged hands.

She had as good as drifted off when the sound of the door slamming open reached her ears, but it seemed muffled – far away and out of her reach. The frantic patter of footsteps followed, and then someone was moving her, and voices were shouting, one a low rasp but still fierce, and another much lighter, but tinged with heart-wrenching panic. There was a flurry of movement all around her, but she was falling, falling, through the floor and away from the voices calling her name. Weightlessness–

–and then everything went dark.

* * *

><p>AN: Good grief, I don't know where all this morbidity is coming from. (I am quite well, I assure you, but this story has a life of it's own sometimes, I swear...)<p> 


	14. for safekeeping

AN: Wonderful readers are wonderful, and your support really boosts my inspiration (which has been going a bit up and down with this fic; kind of like the plot in the current arc). But here it is; the continuation you've had to wait so long to get. Alas, I have no shame. But I _do_ have some romantic goodness for you, which I hope you'll enjoy.

Disclaimer: Fairy Tail and its characters belong to Hiro Mashima; I own absolutely nothing. Cover image by Rae.

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><p><strong>part XIV.<strong>

"I feel like something bad is about to happen."

Gajeel looked down at the kid as she walked next to him, fiddling with the hem of her skirt. There was a furrowed set to her brows that seemed out-of-place on a girl so young, and her eyes looked haunted as they stared ahead at the curving street stretching out before them. Not that Gajeel could blame her, with the shit-storm just waiting on the horizon. Hell, the whole guild was on edge. Around them, the people of the capitol milled along the cobbled streets, chatting and laughing; blissfully oblivious to what lurked behind the grand façade of the magic games. But then, Gajeel figured it was for the best. They didn't fully know what would happen, after all; it was all speculations at this point. It wasn't anything _good_, that was for damn sure, but alerting anyone outside Fairy Tail at this point would no doubt only make it worse.

The meeting had gone as expected. It had been bad news, more bad news, and Salamander had tried thinking with his gut rather than his head. But they'd developed their strategy and each had gotten their respective assignment. Now all that was missing was for the finale to kick off.

But he agreed with the kid – it felt like something bad was just waiting to happen, and it made him strangely uneasy. He had always trusted his gut, and going by what it was telling him now, he had a feeling the culmination of the games would be more than just a celebration.

And then, of course, there was Levy.

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers, Gajeel set his eyes on the building in the distance that held the infirmary. He had no idea what awaited them at the end of the games, or what would happen with the doomsday time-machine those damn idiots were meddling with, but he knew he wouldn't have felt quite so uneasy if she wasn't still recuperating. Whatever happened, if she would have to get away she had a problem, and he had no way of guaranteeing that he or anyone else from the guild would be with her other than the hag and any other idiots that got themselves hospitalized during the finale. Either way, it wasn't an ideal scenario. Levy was small – getting away wasn't usually a problem, especially not with her wits, but with her feet still in casts and her other healing wounds, she would be hindered. And if she had to fight whilst escaping...

"Are you worried about her?"

He looked down at the kid again, but instead of concern there was a small smile on her face, and he averted his gaze to the row of shops lining the street to their right. He contemplated lying to her, but something told him she wouldn't have believed him if he did.

"Yeah," he said instead.

"Miss Porlyusica will watch out for her."

He snorted. "The hag's a medic, not a fighter."

"But she's strong," the kid argued, and when he looked at her, there was something shining in her eyes that made him remember just who the old hag was. Her dragon's human counterpart, as messed up as _that_ fact was.

She gave him an odd look then; almost mischievous, which looked even more out of place on her face than her previous worry. "Or is it just that anyone but _you_ won't be good enough?"

"Didn't say that."

"But you were thinking it."

He glared down at her, but she squared her shoulders, looking smug, and he scoffed. "And so what? The hell am I supposed to do, leave her in the hands of her lapdogs? Fatty's still walkin' around with a damn cast."

"But they'd protect her with their lives," she countered. "If it came down to it, they would. I don't know what happened when–" she stopped herself, the word on the tip of her tongue, before she changed her mind. "_When," _she said simply. "But they were injured, too, and it wasn't from running away."

Gajeel didn't say anything to that. Firstly, because she was right, but he wasn't about to admit to it, and secondly because even if they'd tried to protect her, they'd _failed_. And he had a feeling whatever was awaiting them now was worse than whatever Ivan Dreyar and his band of merry nut-jobs was capable of pulling.

They were silent for the rest of their trek towards the infirmary, but then Gajeel wasn't up for talking, anyway. He wondered what they'd talked about, after he'd left. He'd caught the two of them on his way to the meeting, so he assumed they were still there with her. He wondered what it would take to get them to leave, and if Levy would mind overly much if he threw them out and locked the door in their faces. The thought had a smirk tugging at his lips; so long as Speedy insisted on always taking the bait, he didn't think he'd grow tired of goading him.

Suddenly, the kid stopped; halted in her tracks so quickly he almost thought she'd fall on her face. He quirked a brow at the strange behaviour, but the sudden wide-eyed terror on her face had his smirk dropping in a second, and the panic that crept into her voice when she spoke had the hairs on the back of his neck standing on edge.

"Can you smell that?"

He frowned, but breathed in deeply, wondering what she was on–

She was running even before he was.

Throwing open the main entrance with enough force to tear the doors off their hinges, they took the stairs, and panic surged within him as the scent grew stronger the further in they went. He'd just recently managed to purge the memory of it, sticking to his nose like a searing brand, but now it was all he could smell, and it seemed to cling to the walls and the floors of the winding corridors as they hurtled down them. With his longer strides, he was the quicker, but when they reached the wide-open door to the infirmary, the kid pushed her way past him and into the room, slipping under his arm as his hand grasped the door frame.

The hag seemed to have gotten there just before them, and was shifting Levy's still form, untangling it from the heap it was curled into. The smell of blood slammed against him like a physical wall, and he nearly choked with it, but he pushed his way forward even as the hag snapped at him to stay back. Kneeling beside the older woman, he glared at her when she slapped his hands away. The kid was asking questions, and the hag answered in gruff replies that betrayed a panic she wasn't usually prone to showing.

"Get her on her side!"

"Is it the wound?"

"Looks like it. Damn brat's torn the stitches open," she growled as her blood-stained hand pressed fresh gauze against Levy's bleeding midsection. and Gajeel felt something unfamiliar unfurl within his stomach. _She'd_ done it? To _herself_?

"Fucking _idiot!_"

The hag glared at him, the look telling him he clearly wasn't helping but that she didn't necessarily disagree with the remark. "Help me lift her up; I ain't restitching it on the damn floor."

Despite the fact that part of him was seconds away from snapping, Gajeel complied without complaint, slipping his hands beneath the small shape and lifting her up. The hag followed, ushering him towards the bunny girl's old bed once she took in the state of Levy's stained sheets. The kid followed in their wake, movements hurried but controlled as she prepared the necessary equipment.

"Ready, brat?"

Nodding her head, she came to stand beside Gajeel, although she made no suggestion for him to move out of her way. Which was good, because he didn't really know how he'd have reacted. His nerves were on edge, and he bristled with the pent up anger and nauseating fear that clawed its way along his spine. Levy's face was blank and white; the same it had been when he'd pulled her down from her crucifixion. The skin beneath her closed eyes seemed translucent, somehow – thin and sickly, and he had to strain his hearing to hear her draw breath; to make sure she was, in fact, still breathing.

The soft glow of the kid's hands pulled his gaze away from the closed eyes, drawing his attention to the wound. He hadn't seen what the hag had done with it after she'd reshaped it and wrapped it the first time; had only heard about it from the woman herself. He'd thought waiting to tell Shorty had been the right choice; the hag had agreed, but it was clear they'd made the wrong decision. He should have known she'd be too curious to wait, but he hadn't realized how the sight of the wound would affect her. He'd never imagined it would be this bad, or that she'd react so strongly.

But then, even if it had been reshaped into the symbol of their guild, Levy's intelligence wasn't necessary to figure out what it had been before.

"Blood," the hag snapped, and the kid slipped away without a word. Gajeel didn't say anything; just watched as they worked. He hadn't been allowed inside the last time the old woman had patched her up, and he wasn't about to take his chances on pushing his luck now.

Although he'd have liked to see her try and throw him out.

He didn't really know what made him do it. Perhaps the panic that had his hands shaking with the sheer intensity of the feeling, but before he was even aware of it, he'd made a grab for her hand. Limp and covered in blood, and _cold_, it felt even smaller in his than it usually did. But it didn't feel awkward, this time. Letting the tips of his fingers rest against the underside of her wrist, he focused on her pulse, however weak, and tried to will it to speed up. She didn't respond, though. Didn't even twitch where she lay, small and bloodied against the clean sheets. And he didn't even know what to do other than stand at her side and hold onto her, because he felt that if he didn't, she'd slip away.

Stupid. Fucking. _Idiot_.

"You can yell at her all you want when she wakes up, but ya keep yer anger in check while I work," the hag growled, her gruff voice pulling him out of his thoughts. The kid had come back, carrying with her a few bags of blood, and got to work without pausing in her step, moving around him where he stood, stubbornly rooted to the spot.

"Levy!"

The voices from the doorway drew his gaze away from what was going on before him, and Gajeel watched as the idiots scrambled inside, but before they'd even taken a step, the hag's voice stopped them in their tracks.

"Metal-brat, make yerself useful. She ain't gonna heal any sooner with either of you hanging over her, and I ain't gonna do my work any _faster_," she growled, turning her sharp eyes on him for just a second, before all her attention was focused back on the midget.

_"Levy!_ Hey, what the–"

"Don't make me repeat myself!" she snapped, and Gajeel threw one last look towards the shape on the bed, before releasing her hand and making for the doorway.

"Out," he growled, grabbing them both by the collars of their shirts and hauling them with him.

"_Hey_–"

"And close the damn door while yer at it!" came the holler, and he slammed it shut behind him as he stepped into the hallway, pulling the protesting mages along with him.

"Gajeel–!"

"Get your hands off me!"

He slammed them both against the wall of the corridor, revelling a little in the surge of satisfaction as some of his rage and frustration found an outlet. He'd kept a tight leash on it inside the infirmary, but now it was clawing its way out, tearing at his sanity until he thought he was going to go mad with the myriad of feelings that fought for supremacy within him. But worst of all was the pain – pain that wasn't his. Pain that was so clearly _hers_, and that lay like a cloying, sticking substance along the inside of his veins. And _panic_, or the aftershock of it, simmering within him until unfamiliar hysteria threatened to undo him.

"Oye, Gaj–"

"Shaddup!" he snapped, voice coming out as a snarl more than a command, and he could feel Speedy's pulse beneath the hand grasping his collar leap against his skin. For all his protesting, there was no masking the genuine fear that thrummed along the smaller man's form, although whether it was fear of Gajeel or fear _for_ Levy, was hard to tell.

Drawing a deep breath, Gajeel tried to compose himself, to push the foreign sensations away. He felt like physically clawing at his eyes, if only to remove the image of her, curled in on herself in a pool of her own blood.

"Where the hell were you two?" he asked then, fingers tightening against the fabric of their shirts as he held them against the wall. Power surged along his nerves, and he shook with the force of keeping it contained; and keeping from unleashing it all on the two of them.

"We just left her alone for a minute!" Speedy snapped, glaring at him. "And what about _you_? Where the hell were _you_ when this happened?"

His hands clenched into fists, shaking with the effort not to pound them both into oblivion. He wasn't about to tell them what he'd been doing; that plan was strictly between the teams, and he wasn't about to jeopardize their plan of action just because he felt like defending himself.

And Speedy was right, anyway. He hadn't been there, although there hadn't been a need for anyone to be with her constantly after she'd woken up, anyway. She'd healed fast, and it had all looked like it had been going in the right direction. None of them had predicted she'd react the way she had, and something told him it had to have been more than just the sight of the healing wound, but until she woke up, they were left in the dark.

Now all they had to do was keep from tearing each other to pieces.

Speedy reached a hand up to tug his away then, and Gajeel released him without another word, hands still shaking with the remnants of his anger falling limp against his sides. Neither of the them said anything, but they stared each other down over the chasm of distrust and unsettled debts that lay gaping between them. Seven yawning years rested on his shoulders for his decision to step up as Levy's partner in the exams; a choice that had, in their eyes no doubt, robbed them both of the last moments with her before the island had been destroyed. That they had come back had changed little; there had been no talk of apologies from either end. Instead it had festered between them; a rotting wound that Gajeel doubted even time would heal. Once, that wouldn't have phased him; he'd have carried on with his life as usual. He was used to people hating him just for being who he was, and he'd never needed to justify his actions.

Not before Shorty had come into the picture, anyhow. But it struck him then that even if he'd always felt like he'd wronged her the most, the two before him had been humiliated as well; and though he didn't really give a flying fuck if either of them liked him, Levy did.

And whether he liked it or not, _that, _if nothing else, mattered to him.

Some of his thoughts must have shown on his face, because something seemed to pass between them then – something he couldn't quite place his finger on. An understanding, almost, foreign as that concept seemed. Speedy's glare dropped, and the animosity seemed to visibly drain out of him, to be replaced with some sort of heavy resolve. "You'll tell us when she wakes up," he said then, and it wasn't a question. Hell, it wasn't even a statement. If he was honest, it almost felt like Speedy was giving him some kind of responsibility. No. Not _giving._

Handing over.

Studded brows furrowing beneath his headband, Gajeel searched the man's face. There was a pensive determination there, and it was echoed in the eyes of the fat one beside him. It was a silent relinquishing of the job that had once been theirs, and had Gajeel still been the way he was before he'd joined Fairy Tail, he might have mocked them for losing her to him. He'd have taunted them for being weak, and for being unable to keep her.

But he wasn't like that anymore. And so he simply accepted. With a brusque nod of his head, he welcomed the obligation; the safekeeping of what they held in highest regard. It wasn't something he'd ever considered they'd give him _willingly._ Hell, he'd been fully prepared to take it, even if they'd liked it or not. But then those damn fairies had to go and pull a fast one on him. _Again_.

It went to show just how much he still had to learn about the guild he called his own.

There were no other words between them. No 'make sure she's safe', because there didn't need to be. They didn't have to remind him, and he didn't have to assure them. They all knew; they all _understood_. And along with the understanding came what had been seven years overdue, sharp against his mind like a physical blow to the face.

_Forgiveness_.

And Gajeel wasn't even going to pretend it didn't mean shit. He was used to grudges; more so than he was used to mercy. But it wasn't about him, this time. It was about her. It had always been about _her_. And for her, it meant everything.

He said nothing as he turned back to the closed door of the infirmary; the sound of their retreat in the opposite direction echoing against the walls of the corridor. Pausing with his hand on the handle, fingers twitching against the metal, Gajeel glared at the wooden planks in front of him. Their footfalls rang loudly in his ears; the sound an accusation he couldn't ignore even if he tried.

Oh, damn it all to _hell_.

"If ya come back in a few hours, the hag'll probably be finished," he said then, more to the door than to the two of them.

He heard them pause in their steps, before Speedy's voice reached his ears. "Yeah?"

Gajeel's fingers tightened around the doorhandle. _The hell have you done to me, Levy McGarden? _

"I'll make sure she doesn't throw ya back out."

And without another word, he pushed the handle of the door and let himself inside.

* * *

><p>Night had fallen when the infirmary had finally cleared out.<p>

Gajeel was sitting beside the bed, mulling over his thoughts and the tournament finale that awaited him once morning rolled around. He thought about Levy, and the shit she kept getting herself into; all connected to him, in one way or another.

When word had gotten out about what had happened, he'd had to deal with the rest of the guild, something he'd had neither the patience for nor the tact. The hag had beaten him to it, though, and had thrown all but Makarov out, dragging them by their ears like children and cursing up a storm. Gajeel, she'd let stay, together with the old man and Levy's boys, although the latter decision had been reluctantly made.

Makarov had looked troubled, but then he was rarely seen without a furrowed brow these days. Between what had happened with Ivan and what lurked at the end of the games, Gajeel didn't envy the man the responsibility. Tenrou had told him enough of what Makarov was willing to sacrifice for his children, and though they'd all gotten out of that fix, it was no doubt still fresh in his mind. So he'd stayed and overseen the hag as she'd patched Levy back up, and then he'd sat at her bedside, silent and contemplative, and even if Gajeel and the rest of Shadow Gear had been in the room no words had been exchanged between them.

Now, it was only him. And her, breathing softly and silently beside him, white as the sheets beneath her, but the soft rise and fall of her chest was enough to let him know she was fine. Not _well_, but a damn sight better than what he'd walked in on a few hours earlier.

His hands tightened against the arms of his chair, and his brows furrowed as his gaze came to rest on the sheets covering her bandaged stomach. They had been changed, and the room smelled clean again; the sharp and sterile smell of _hospital_ that he had used to hate, once, but that he'd now accept without a thought, so long as it overpowered the scent of her blood.

Her eyes fluttered then, and he sat up in his seat, ears alert for any change to her breathing. It took her a few seconds, but slowly her eyes opened, as though straining against a physical weight, and her hands twitched against her sides. Disorientation showed clear on her face, and then panic, and Gajeel tried to ignore how the sensation seemed to almost _leap_ towards him. Pushing the thought away, he was out of the chair and leaning over before she'd even opened her mouth, and at the sight of him she visibly relaxed. Her bloodshot eyes were wide and dark in her pale face, but her heart-rate slowed down, and even as she was pulling herself out of sleep, her hand fumbled for his.

She blinked her eyes drowsily when his fingers tightened around hers, and tried to smile. "Hey." Then she clamped her eyes shut, and a groan escaped her. "Had 'n awful dream."

He frowned, and she went on, voice a tired murmur in the silent room. "Dreamt...brand on my stomach...lots of blood..." she winced a bit, as though the memories were physically painful to recall. She met his gaze then, a small smile tugging at her lips, but at the sight of the look on his face it vanished just as quickly. "What's wrong?" An edge of hysteria crept into her tone, and he could tell the moment realization dawned on her by the way her eyes seemed to glass over.

"_Oye_," he rumbled, splaying a palm across her forehead, forcing her eyes to meet his. Her heart-rate had sped up, and panic was welling up within her, but he kept his grip on her forehead, drawing her attention.

"_Fuck_. Breathe, Levy!"

She did, but it seemed to demand more effort than it should, and when she drew it in a hoarse cough escaped her, shuddering through her small frame, and he reached for the glass of water on her nightstand without a word, holding it to her lips as she drank.

When she was done, she tried to move her head – no doubt to look towards her stomach. "Is..."

"Hag patched ya up," he said gruffly, and she closed her eyes, no doubt recalling what had lead to her needing the new stitches.

"The hell happened, Shorty?"

She shook her head, and tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes, but she made no sound, only kept her eyes tightly shut as she breathed. When she finally opened them, she kept her gaze firmly locked on the ceiling. His hand released its grip on her forehead, sliding through her hair, and she shivered at the touch. "I...don't know. I just...remembered. _Everything_, all at once. And..." she trailed off, shaking her head as her words failed her.

Finally, she spoke up again, and her voice broke on the final syllable. "I was awake."

He frowned, and she continued, sensing his confusion. "_During_. I was awake, and...it..." she almost choked on her words, and Gajeel felt his fingers curl into a fist where his hand was tangled in her hair. He wondered briefly if he would ever be rid of the furious regret that he hadn't finished Ivan off when he'd had the chance.

She shook against his hand, tears dripping down her face to pool at her collar and soak the pillow beneath her head. At a loss of what to do, he simply splayed his fingers against her skull, letting them run through her hair. It hadn't struck him, when she'd first woken up, so blinded by the sheer relief that she was _awake_, that she hadn't properly dealt with the trauma. And he wasn't going to kid himself; _he_ had problems enough dealing with the image of her crucified form, branded as it was to his memory. For her to have experienced it...

It took her some time to calm down, and he didn't move from her side. He had no experience with offering comfort in situations like these. Her teammates would probably have known exactly what to do and say to make her feel better, but Gajeel felt like he was fumbling around blindfolded and with his hands tied behind his back. But they'd entrusted her to him; her well-being and her happiness, and even if he didn't feel at all qualified for the responsibility, it was still his.

So he did the first thing that struck him – something he'd seen the cowgirl do to her brat when she'd been inconsolable. Slipping his hands beneath her, he caught the momentary surprise on her face before he lifted her off the bed with the most care he could summon. The sensation was foreign and awkward, but she said nothing, and made no move to stop him as he sat back down into his chair, keeping her against him as he went. He kept an ear on the sound of her heart-rate, alert to the merest twinge of pain as he shifted her in his arms until she was snug against him. Her head settled in the crook of his neck with a casual ease that should have suggested they'd been doing it for years, but he refused to let his mind linger on the thought as he settled into the chair.

She was silent for so long he wondered if he'd shocked her quite into complete submission, but then she breathed, and it was deep and unobstructed, and she wiggled a little closer, hissing as her stomach came in contact with his ribs. He froze in his seat, his entire form tensing–

"I'm okay – just grazed you," she ground out, before she relaxed against him, and his own tension seemed to melt away at the sensation.

They sat like that for a while in the cramped chair. It had to be well past midnight, and he knew he should have been asleep; he had his orders, come morning. But the sound of her heart against him and the feel of her breath quite wiped those thoughts from his mind.

Finally, after he'd thought she'd gone and fallen back asleep, Levy spoke. "Is it...did she...did she fix it?"

The soft query drew his attention away from his musings, and he looked down to find her peering up at him. Her expression was strangely unreadable, and he wasn't entirely certain what answer she was hoping to hear.

But he wasn't going to lie to her, either way. "Said she patched you up, but I ain't seen how it looks."

She inhaled deeply, and nodded. "Okay."

He frowned down at her, fingers twitching where they cradled her head. "You gonna be able to handle it?"

A rueful smile tugged at her lips. "Do I have a choice?"

He said nothing to that, and she turned her head, so that her cheek was cradled in the palm of his hand. "I'm going to need time."

He smirked. "We've got more than enough of that on our hands," he rumbled, and the morbid joke succeeded in turning her smile just a hint less rueful.

"I hope you won't regret saying that," she murmured wryly.

He grinned. "I ain't a huge believer in this time-machine mumbo jumbo anyways." Unless his future self came back in the flesh, he reserved the right to be sceptical. The entire thing smacked of bad business and just a little too much dark magic. Years ago, he would have kept away from it and minded his own damn business, but it was situations like these that reminded him most vividly of exactly what kind of mage he had become.

And as Levy smiled against his hand, lashes fluttering tiredly against the sallow skin of her cheeks, he found that he couldn't quite regret it. Not any of it. And where that fact had once scared the absolute shit out of him, it didn't seem like such a sacrifice anymore. It didn't feel like he was losing himself, but more that he was, if anything, discovering new sides of himself he hadn't really been aware lurked at the back of his mind.

"Tell me about the future."

He snorted, and rested his cheek against the top of her head. "I ain't a fortune-teller, Shorty."

She slapped a hand against his chest, and though it was a weak gesture, he was surprised when she didn't even twitch with any sign of pain. It looked like her hands were healing well, though she didn't seem to have noticed it herself. "Not like that, you dork. Tell me about what we'll do when this is all over. When we go back to Magnolia." Her voice was a low whisper, but humour had crept into it, and he latched onto the sound. He might be a cynical bastard on the best of days, but even he couldn't turn down that softly murmured request. It didn't even matter if there was no such future for them; being Fairy Tail mages meant they couldn't believe that, even if all evidence pointed towards it. So instead of the morbid reality of their current predicament, he told her not necessarily what she wanted to know, but what he wanted to say. He reminded her of his promise to make her S-class; that he hadn't given up just because the exams had been botched, and he told her about the training she would have to go through once the games ended and they got back to the guild.

She groaned. "No more running," she murmured against him, petulance creeping into her tone. "I _hate_ running. Can't we practice lifting weights instead? _That_ was fun."

Gajeel smirked against her hair. "I still ain't willing to call what you were lifting actual _weights_."

Her quick fingers found his side, but he shifted away before she could pinch him, a grin on his face. And when she shook against him this time, it wasn't with sobs, and for that one moment, it didn't matter if the finale went straight to hell. It didn't matter what kind of evil those damn suspicious idiots at the palace unleashed on the world. Tomorrow, it would matter. It would be his highest priority to stop it, whatever it was.

But now, his highest priority wasn't the city, or the world, or the past or the future. It was the tiny mage in his arms who packed more of a punch that even she thought she did, and who kept surprising him with how much she could take. She wasn't made of iron like he was, but her will was as unbendable as hard-wrought metal. Unyielding, she kept pushing forward even if she didn't have the physical strength left in her body to do it. He'd always considered himself blessed with unwavering confidence and an adamant will, but he had found his match in the most unlikely little person fate could have possibly thrown in his path.

And if there was ever a reason to fight for the world, it was her.

She didn't ask him to put her back, and so he stayed where he was, keeping her to him even as she drifted off into sleep. Her breathing evened out and her heart settled into a steady '_thump_ _thump_' where she rested against his chest, and the sound was a companion in the still night as he was left with his thoughts.

He must have dozed off at some point, because there was a small hand shaking him awake, and when he opened his eyes the infirmary was bright with the light of early morning. The kid stood before him, a secret smile on her face and her lip tugged cheekily between her sharp teeth.

"The First wants to see us downstairs before we begin," she told him, voice low so as not to wake the slumbering shape in his arms, and Gajeel nodded. Without saying anything, he carefully rose from his seat, and kept from wincing at his protesting muscles through will alone. A night in the same position hadn't done him any favours, but he pushed the aches away from his mind as he shifted Levy's sleeping shape in his arms. She was out cold, and drooling charmingly against his shirt, but he kept from snorting as he put her carefully back onto the bed. The kid didn't move from where she stood, and he ignored the curious eyes on his back as he tugged the sheets snugly over the small form.

Giving her a final look, he made up his mind. If everything went to hell, reaching the infirmary would be his main objective. He'd even let Salamander have dibs on whatever enemy he wanted. If his path was clear, he'd use it to get her out, even if he had to go as far as Magnolia to succeed. It wasn't in his orders, but then Makarov wasn't Jose, or Ivan, and insubordination for the sake of someone important to his children had never gotten anyone thrown out of Fairy Tail in the past.

Reaching down, he pressed his forehead against the bandages covering the marred skin of her brow. And before his courage could abandon him completely, drowned by the fumbling awkwardness that sometimes overcame him when she was concerned, Gajeel threw caution quite thoroughly and violently to the wind.

"Love ya, Shorty."

Then he pulled away, and quite blatantly ignored the gaping disbelief on the face of the littlest dragonslayer as he pushed past her towards the open door. Her wide eyes followed him as he went, and he stopped in the doorway to look back at her. "The hell are ya loitering for?" he asked, before a grin stretched across his face.

"We've got a tournament to win."

* * *

><p>AN: Those of you who follow 'Mate' will know that I'm fond of the whole dragon-bond concept (which is hugely overused in fanfiction, I <em>know<em>), but I won't be doing the typical biting-on-the-neck thing. This, like 'Mate', will explore the bond as something that's taken root on a more emotional level and that strengthens over time.


	15. vow

AN: So this story is officially off its year-and-a-half long hiatus! I'm sorry about that, I really am, but my inspiration for Fairy Tail has just recently come back after a rather long absence. I've a mind to finish it this time, though; I've got approx. 4 or 5 chapters left, and I'll try not to keep you waiting so long between updates.

**Note**: I'll be taking some more shameless liberties with the canon-storyline, and though this is pretty much an official AU now, I thought I should give you a heads-up.

Disclaimer: Fairy Tail and its characters belong to Hiro Mashima; I own absolutely nothing. Cover image by Rae.

* * *

><p><strong>part XV.<strong>

"_The last day of the Grand Magic Tournament begins – __**now**__!" _

Leaning back against her pillows, Levy watched the fireworks erupt on-screen, the celebration outside giving the sound from the lacrima an odd echo, and she saw the day-lit sky outside her window flare with colour. She pressed her lips together, and tried to settle more comfortably on the bed; the mattress felt hard and her hip had effectively fallen asleep, and her legs itched within their casts. To say the boredom was getting to her was something of an understatement, but there wasn't much she could do, confined as she was to her bed with her only source of entertainment being the lacrima showing the day's events in the games.

Being the last day of the tournament, she knew she should feel excited, but between worrying about Lucy and the ever-present sense of danger weighing down on them, the best she could manage was a wary sort of anticipation. But for all her restless fidgeting, she kept her promise to Gajeel and stayed put, despite the fact that she'd been left quite to her own devices, at least for the moment. Porlyusica was at the arena with the others, and she'd made her boys go with her under the pretense of being there to support the guild, though to be perfectly honest she'd just wanted a little time to herself. She'd been under constant supervision and it had started to feel a little suffocating, so the sudden peace and quiet of the infirmary was a dearly welcome thing, even if she'd much rather be in the stands with the rest. Jet and Droy had been less than eager at the prospect of leaving her alone, but she'd managed to bargain for a few hours to herself if she'd promised she wouldn't try to get up. They'd taken her crutches, too, which she'd found rather unnecessary, but her protests had been cheerfully ignored.

She sighed, and flattened her hands on the blanket spread across her lap, eyes watching the screen as the camera switched between the members of Sabertooth, the commentators voices making the occasional observation along with speculations about the day's results, and she drummed her fingers against the sheet in tune with the cheering from the crowd. The ache in her hands was still present, but the drugs had dulled it enough for it not to be a nuisance, and she turned the appendages over, drawing her gaze away from the lacrima to look at her palms as she imagined what the scars looked like beneath the tightly wrapped bandages. Following that train of thought, she glanced at her stomach, covered as it was by the blanket, and felt the corners of her mouth turn down.

It was a stupid thing that she'd done, she knew that. But she hadn't been herself – she couldn't even recognize the actions as her own when she thought back on it. It felt like she'd withdrawn somewhere within her own mind, waking only to find that her body had been at the mercy of some foreign impulse she hadn't been able to stop. She was lucky they'd found her before she'd bled out all over the floor.

The stray, morbid thought had her swallowing thickly, and she looked back at the lacrima, where the camera was switching between the different guilds now. She caught a brief glimpse of Gajeel, but the camera was moving away before she'd gotten a proper look, but it succeeded in bringing a small smile to her face. She couldn't see Natsu anywhere, but figured he must have gone after Lucy, wherever they were keeping her. It made her feel a little better, but the restless suspicion that something was about to go horribly _wrong_ still wouldn't leave her, and she curled her fingers around the edge of the blanket to keep them from shaking. They were all out there fighting, and all she could do was sit still. Even if something were to go wrong, she'd be a liability more than anything else.

A noise drew her attention then – footsteps in the hallway outside, and she startled, gaze flying from the lacrima to the doorway. There was a long pause as Levy held her breath, and tried to fight down the rising panic that seemed to want to push its way up her throat. _This is ridiculous, it's probably just someone from the guild come to make sure I'm still in bed. _

But the door didn't open, and she breathed out through her nose, pushing her rising panic back down, and she tried to keep the waver out of her voice as she spoke, "Is anyone there?"

No one answered, but she could see the shadow beneath the door now, and her hands skimmed across her blankets as she fruitlessly searched for something to use as a weapon. If it was someone from the guild, they wouldn't be loitering around outside the door – most of her friends didn't even bother knocking. Unease crawled across her skin as she realized she was very much alone and very much without a means to defend herself, and she berated herself for sending Jet and Droy off to the arena.

Then she saw the handle pushed down, and the door swung open slowly, and Levy decided that if she needed it she'd throw the tray on her nightstand – _anything_, if it meant she could attract some attention, or buy herself some more time. Fingers curled around the edge of the tray, she watched a small, cloaked shape step into the room, and she held her breath as the figure came to a stop at the foot of the bed. She couldn't see their face, but by the size and stature she figured it had to be a woman.

A stray image of the red haired Raven Tail mage flashed before her eyes, and her fingers tightened around the tray in reflex, but just as she'd been about to lift it the cloaked figure reached up to lift the hood covering its face, and Levy drew a breath, steeling herself as the fabric was pushed back and she found herself looking at–

–herself.

Except it wasn't herself, though there was no mistaking the face that looked back at her. It was the one she saw in the mirror every day, though her hair was longer, but growing unevenly in some places as though it had once been shorn off.

The urge to reach up to touch her own hair was as sudden as it was surprising, but she was too startled to do anything but stare, the tray still clutched between her numb fingers. The stranger – the stranger that looked back at her with _her face _– made no move to speak, and it was now that Levy noticed the large, jagged scars that bisected her brow and the skin of her neck and cheek. From the pink colour they weren't old – a few months at most, if she could venture a guess, but the wounds had run deep and from the looks of it they were slow in healing.

But beneath the vicious scars, the face that looked back at her was unmistakable. "You're–" she stopped, the words sticking to the back of her throat, and she found herself at a sudden loss.

The girl's face softened a little. "Yes," she said, though Levy hadn't actually said anything for her to agree to. And the voice, too, was her own – the lilt familiar, yet foreign to her own ears. "I'm really sorry for barging in on you like this. I'd have given you a better introduction if I could, but we don't have time for that." And then she was moving towards her bedside, and still Levy could only stare in open-mouthed disbelief. "I've come to get you out of here – will you trust me?"

Levy blinked. "Get me–" she shook her head. "I don't– who _are_ you?"

The girl – the girl who was her spitting image in manner and appearance – didn't stumble over her words. "I'm _you_. I'd have thought you'd have put the pieces together by now."

"You're...me," Levy said, wondering if she'd be able to wrap her mind around it if she spoke the words out loud. It didn't work as well as she'd hoped.

Then she sucked in a breath, realization dawning. "You're me, but you're not. You're different – _older. _You've–" she stopped herself from pointing out the scars. Her mind was working a mile a minute, and she thought back to what Gajeel had told her, of the Eclipse – the portal with the ability to open pathways in _time_–

The girl smiled then, the gesture a brief, almost imperceptible quirk of the lips that was gone as fast as it had appeared. "I've heard people say they can see the wheels in my heard turning when I think, but I'd never realized it was so noticeable." She nodded, as though to herself. "You know where I'm from, then."

Levy shook her head. "What– no. I don't– well you're from the future," and wasn't _that_ a mouthful to swallow, "but what are you doing _here_? And...you've come to get me out of here? Why?"

Her future self – as mind-boggling as that was to even imagine, let alone admit – pressed her lips together in a grim line. "I can't explain everything right now – I've got you get you to safety before anyone comes looking. Will you go with me?"

At any other time Levy would have found the notion of putting trust in herself to be an amusing thought, but now all she could do was stare dumbfounded at her doppelganger as she held her hand out towards her. And she noticed, then, the healing scar on her palm – a pale circular mark, smoother and barely noticeable compared to the ones on her face. And she looked at her own, still wrapped in gauze, the dull ache pressing against her skin.

Following the path of her gaze, her future self curled her hand into a fist, hiding the scar from sight. "Will you come with me?" she asked again, voice harder this time, or as hard as Levy imagined she could make it. "I'll tell you everything you need to know, but away from here. We don't have much time, and I can't stay here much longer." When Levy still didn't answer, she pressed, _"Will you come?" _

Levy met her gaze, and found a desperation there so chilling it made a shiver run down her spine. Part of her protested the thought of going with a stranger, whoever she may be, on a whim and a vague promise of an explanation. But try as she might she couldn't detect any trace of magic from the girl, and she'd spent enough time with Mira to be fairly adept at picking out cloaks and illusion magic.

And another part of her – the part that felt an odd kinship with the person standing before her, hand held out in a gesture somewhere between a plea and an offer; the part that recognized the severity in the dark gaze holding hers – felt an odd compulsion to go with her. She recognized her method of approach – the direct one, asking for her permission instead of stealing her away in the middle of the night. She'd have made the same choice, Levy realized, if their roles had been reversed. Her curiosity was a force in its own right and it had gotten her into more trouble than it was worth, but there was something about the plea for trust that drew her towards it. It was an impulse to do as she was asked – a feeling that her life depended on it.

With a silent apology to Gajeel, or whoever came looking and found her gone, Levy reached out her own hand, bandage-wrapped and fingers still tingling, towards the scarred appendage still held out towards her. "Okay_,_" she said, grasping the hand that felt so very much like her own, down to the pen-callouses along her forefinger and the crooked ring-finger that she'd broken once on a mission years ago.

"I'll trust you."

* * *

><p>Trust, as it would turn out, meant allowing herself to be carried through the city streets, still dressed in her pyjamas and with her arms tucked around a neck that bore the same birthmark Levy knew was on her own, some ways below her right ear – Jet had always said it looked like a butterfly, though Levy had never really seen the resemblance until now. The odd realization only emphasised the fact that she was dealing with her actual, honest to goodness <em>future<em> self.

"We're here."

Levy lifted her head from where it had been resting on her older self's shoulder. The girl's notion of _safety_ was what appeared to be an abandoned house in the outskirts of the city, a good ways off from the palace and the arena and tucked away in the corner of a quiet residential neighbourhood, and Levy wondered if they weren't actually breaking and entering the home of someone off to watch the last day of the games.

"Don't worry," Future Levy said then, as though sensing the path her thoughts had taken as she was carried inside, to be placed down on a lone bed in one of the rooms. "No one lives here anymore – I made sure of that when I first came here. You'll be safe." She helped tuck her feet beneath the blanket, and Levy noticed that her hands were shaking, but was unsure of whether it was from exertion or something else. She'd carried her the entire way, using the same spell that had allowed Levy to follow Gajeel that night that felt like a lifetime ago, now.

Thinking of the dragonslayer, Levy wondered if anyone had come to look for her yet, and felt guilt gnaw at her heart at the thought of what would happen when they found her gone without so much as a word. She berated herself for not leaving a note, but her future self hadn't given her the option. She'd seemed determined to keep her whereabouts hidden, though she'd been rather tight-lipped as to the reasons why. And Levy wondered, not for the first time since she'd been carried out of the infirmary on her own back, at the wisdom of her decision. Hadn't she gotten herself into enough trouble lately?

_Can't stay put for a single day. _Oh, he was going to kill her. Well, if he found her, that was. Levy still didn't know what her future self had planned, or why she'd insisted on getting her out of the way. Whatever happened in the tournament, she was well out of harm's way, at the very least. Although even as she tried to convince herself of that, the look on the scarred face so like a mirror of her own made her swallow her assurance, and suddenly the restless sense of imminent danger that had itched along her skin all day seemed to rise and swell until it felt like she couldn't breathe.

After a laden silence that had begun to border on the oppressive, Future Levy settled down on the edge of the bed, but didn't seem very inclined to strike up conversation. Levy fidgeted a little in her seat, fingers tugging nervously at the frills on the blanket.

"You said you were going to tell me why you're here," she said then, when it didn't seem like the girl had any intention of being the first to speak. "And why it was so important, getting me to...safety," she added, and cast a furtive glance around the pleasant interior of the room, the cheerful, yellow curtains so at odds with the severity that rested between them like a weight. It all seemed rather incredible, and she wondered if she wasn't going to wake in the infirmary soon, from a rather heavily drug-induced dream.

The girl nodded. "I did," she said, hesitating, as though uncertain of where to begin. "I promised you I would, and it's important that you know the reason you've got to stay here." She gave her a hard look, and Levy started at the sudden edge in her voice. "No matter what happens."

Levy wanted to ask what she meant by that, but sensed she wasn't finished, and so settled back against the headboard, hands idle in her lap as she regarded what she would become – this stranger from a future she didn't know if she wished to know, if the shadows behind her eyes were any indication, nevermind the gruesome scars she couldn't seem to pull her eyes away from. The _what happened to you _lurked at the tip of her tongue, along with a hundred pressing questions, but she kept her mouth stubbornly closed.

"Tomorrow everything you know will be destroyed," she spoke then, and Levy's eyes flew open at the calm utterance, but she wasn't given a chance at interjecting before her future self continued, "They'll open the portal – the Eclipse gate I came through from the future, but it won't do what you think it will. Its opening will bring about this country's destruction, and...the return of the rule of dragons." She looked up at that, and the scars seemed more prominent on her face, somehow.

Levy could only stare, gobsmacked, mind spinning with the information she'd been given and unable to process it. It was impossible – it had to be. But the part of her that remembered Acnologia's bulk obscuring the sun over Tenrou recognized the terror in her eyes, and with a flick of her gaze she found her evidence staring back at her, cutting jagged pathways across a familiar brow, and again she fought the urge to skim her fingers over her own face. _Dragons. Dragon claws made those marks, but–_

"You'll fail to close it in time, and you won't be able to stop them – there'll be too many, and they'll overrun you. I...I wasn't around to watch...when the others..." She seemed to steel herself. "I was in bed, because I couldn't walk on my own, not even to get away, and when the cameras cut off..." she trailed off. "I didn't know what was happening, but there were screams, and I could hear them – the sound of their wings, and...the shadows they cast."

She seemed to have withdrawn somewhere within herself as she spoke, and Levy could only watch in detached fascination, unable to wrap her mind around what she was being told. It seemed like such a tall tale, a far-fetched, terrifying story from out of one of her favourite novels, but the hardness in the girl's eyes was genuine as she spoke of the great beasts that had covered the sky and plunged them all into darkness, and of unnatural screeches and the smell of burning flesh in the air. Of a city in ruins and the utter desolation that had met them when the sun had risen over the rubble the next day.

She spoke of waking up to find her wounds patched up, in a world no longer their own and with death pressing down on them from above. She told of finding Lucy, and of making the choice to go back, to change the outcome of the future – that Lucy was somewhere in Magnolia, too, looking to find a way to stop the dragons; that they didn't have a strategy or a plan of action, only the knowledge that _they had to change it. _

When she was finished, Levy could only stare, unable to find the words to convey all the questions pressing against her brow like a headache. "How did you–" she stopped. It seemed a silly question, but she was _there_ – she was alive, despite the cataclysm she'd described. And it seemed like such an unlikely thing in the event of the end of the world, that little Levy McGarden would live to see the next day.

"He found me," she said then, and Levy sucked in a startled breath, but her future self didn't seem to notice, too caught up in her own memories. "He'd left the fighting to check on me, to make sure I could get away, because I was still too injured to take care of myself."

Levy would have smiled but for the sight of the bitter grief in the eyes looking back at her – _her own eyes_, but different. Colder and harder, and years older though there couldn't be many months separating them. "I've told you the reason Lucy came here, but mine was more selfish. I wasn't supposed to go with her – we didn't know if it would even work, going back through the gate, but I just couldn't stay behind, not...not if there was still a chance I could do something to change what happened." She looked up to meet her gaze. "So I came back...so I could make sure that you – that _I_ – stayed far away from the battle."

Levy shook her head, a frown pulling at her brows and tugging at her own healing scar, which seemed rather feeble in comparison. "I still don't see _why_, though – you survived. You–"

"Yes. _I _did," she said, cutting her off, and Levy fell silent. "I survived because I was carried to safety, because I couldn't walk on my own, not even to get away!" she snapped, and her earlier detached calm seemed to crumble as her voice broke over the last word. She _looked_ at her then, and Levy felt realization begin to dawn, the sense of dread that had lurked at the edge of her mind, and she knew – she knew before she'd even spoken the words, the reason she was there. She hadn't spoken his name once, and the reason why was staring her right in the face.

"He'll give his life for you," she said then, putting words to her worst fear, and Levy shook her head, unable to believe – not willing to accept what she was being told. But her future self wouldn't allow her the blessing of denial as she pushed onwards, "Like he did for me. If I hadn't been in that infirmary, if he hadn't come looking for me and tried to take me away, if he hadn't put himself in the path of a _dragon_–" she cut herself off, and the naked grief in her eyes was enough to make Levy's water in turn. A sob pressed against the back of her throat, and she felt like choking. _No. No, not–_

"He gave his life for me, and there was nothing I could do to stop it."

She drew a breath, and when she looked at Levy next there was a determination there, sharp and cutting in place of her earlier grief. "Until now."

Before Levy could ask, she continued, "I can't stop him from fighting," Future Levy said, pressing her hands together in her lap to keep them from shaking. "But I can keep _you_ out of danger, so that he won't have to."

Then she rose to her feet, and Levy startled, her mind catching up with what she'd just been told. "Wait– where are you going? You can't just–" but she couldn't finish, because she didn't know what she was protesting. Fury bubbled up in her chest at the realization that she still couldn't _do_ anything, and that for all the information she'd been given, she was too far away for it to be of use to anyone. She had, for all intents and purposes, been put away, and she wanted to scream.

Her doppelganger rested a hand on the doorknob, and when she glanced back over her shoulder her expression was apologetic. "You have to promise me you'll stay here. Someone will come find you, I promise."

"What– _no_! Hey! You can't just leave me here!"

But her future self didn't seem to be listening, and Levy could only stare after her in helpless fury as she stopped in the doorway, one trembling hand resting on the frame. But she didn't turn around, and she didn't look back as she spoke, "I'm going to make sure he survives this battle," she said, stepping out of the room and leaving Levy on the bed. Her next words were uttered softly, but Levy caught them regardless.

"Even if it means my life for his, this time."

* * *

><p>As she made her way from the house where she'd left her past self, Levy drew the hood of her cloak back over her head, wiping at her eyes to halt the tears that had gathered. Pausing outside the door, she sketched out a barrier spell – a precaution more than anything, though she didn't doubt her past self could break it if she put her mind to it. But the casts on her feet would hinder her from physically going anywhere, and the barrier would keep people out, if anything.<p>

_I'm so sorry about this. _The muffled shouts for her to come back were muted with a simple flick of her pen; barrier in place, she stepped back from the door. Overhead the sky was darkening as July 6 neared its end, and she felt the apprehension she'd been trying to keep at bay swell behind her ribcage until there didn't seem to be any space left for her to breathe. They were running out of time, and she had no idea where Lucy was or if she'd come any closer to figuring out how to stop the dragons. Communication had been hard enough with keeping themselves hidden, and she hadn't seen her friend in well over a day. And with July 7 a few hours away and still no plan in place, she was beginning to feel a numb sort of helplessness gather like ice in her veins. What if they had to relive their defeat all over again? That for all their work to stop their condemned future from unfolding, all they would get for their efforts was to watch their friends and companions die as they were once again unable to stop it?

Mercurius loomed in the distance, lamp-lit spires jutting into the ever darkening sky, and she wondered if Lucy was below it with the others, or if she was off somewhere else, captured or– Levy shook her head; she couldn't even finish the thought. _I hope you're safe, Lu. I can't do this without you. _

With a breath and a murmur for strength, she tugged her hood further down, covering her face and the grotesque scars her past self hadn't been able to tear her eyes away from, and she wondered for a moment how Gajeel would take it. Knowing him, not much better, though he'd certainly not be so polite as to pretend he wasn't staring.

The thought of seeing him again – alive and breathing and yelling at her – gave her renewed strength, and she picked up her pace as she made for the city interior. She'd come with a purpose – would put her life on the line for that purpose, and she wasn't about to give up when there was still a chance to change it, however small. She'd seen the future, had lived beneath its fiery skies for months with a fear rooted in her heart and a grief so potent she'd walked numb and cold like a corpse in the world of the living. If she could just save _him_ – if she could just make sure he made it out of the carnage and the destruction, she would welcome whatever fate had in store for her in turn.

The memory of being pulled off his still form, screaming at the top of her lungs as Erza had forcibly carried her off, made her resolve harden, turned her will to steel and iron and adamantine as she pushed herself to walk the empty streets towards the gate that heralded their extinction. Reaching into the pocket of her cloak, her fingers curled around the headband she kept tucked within its confines. Pulling it out, she held it before her, the colours vivid against the dark fabric of her coat, and she traced the contours of the decorative rosette with her fingertips. Lucy had been the one to fix it, what seemed so long ago now. She'd washed off the blood, stitched and mended it and made it new again where it had been just a scarp of ruined fabric. Gajeel had kept it – he'd pushed it into her hands before his own had gone still and he'd left her in that smoking rubble, fire and death all around her as his heart had stopped beating beneath her palms.

Hands clenching around the headband, Levy tucked it back into her pocket with shaking fingers, breathing in the crisp air, blessedly unpolluted by smoke and the smell of burning flesh. She'd seen the future, and she would change it. She would wash off the blood, restitch it and mend it until it was _whole_ again.

No matter the cost.

* * *

><p>AN: So how's that for a comeback?<p> 


	16. endless fields and ever-bending skies

AN: Bet you weren't expecting an update so soon, but here you have it! Some more artistic liberties are taken with the plot, for instance with regards to the dragon Gajeel fights, who I've named 'Abaddon' for the occasion and who I've given some character traits, because it's a damn crime that we had _seven dragons_ and didn't even get to know them all.

Disclaimer: Fairy Tail and its characters belong to Hiro Mashima; I own absolutely nothing. Cover image by Rae.

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><p><strong>part XVI.<strong>

"Oye, Juvia – you gonna be okay here? I need to go check on shortstuff."

The water mage frowned. "But midnight is in an hour. Is Gajeel sure it's wise to leave?" But the concern was clear in her voice, regardless of her words.

Gajeel paced, restless and strangely agitated, before forcing himself to stop. "Something doesn't feel right," he said at length. "And she's up there by herself. If anything goes down–" he threw her a look. "I'll be quick. Just need ta make sure she's okay."

Juvia nodded. "Juvia will be alright, but Gajeel should hurry back. It's almost July 7." She looked up at the sky above them, her frown deepening. "Although Juvia still hasn't seen any sign of the dragons."

From beside her, the stripper hummed his agreement. "You'd think we'd be able to tell by now if they were coming. Or at least from which direction."

Gajeel followed his gaze. "Yeah, well, I don't like it. Shorty can't even walk on 'er own." He muttered, "Should've gotten her out of the damn city." Unease roiled like a bad bout of motion sickness in the pit of his stomach, and he grimaced. Juvia was right – there was no sign of an approaching army, and Gajeel had lived with a dragon long enough to know they made a hell of a lot of noise. It didn't sit well with him, the waiting. They'd gathered all the guilds and no one was at each other's throats, but despite their earlier excitement morale was low, and there was an ever-present sense that they'd failed to see something that wouldn't leave him alone.

"Gajeel?"

"Yeah, I'm going," he said, tearing his eyes away from the quiet skies as he started off towards the infirmary. With a last glance at the two mages, he set off at a run. "I'll be back!"

He didn't hear what she called after him, mind already somewhere else as he pushed his way past the other guild-members and the people gathered in the city square. It probably wasn't the wisest course of action, leaving when danger loomed so close on the horizon. It would have been different if she'd been at his side where he could have kept her within his sight, or better yet, at the furthest end of the whole damn country and well out of the way of whatever dragons who decided to show up sometimes after the clock struck midnight. But seeing as both options were out of the question, he at least wanted to make sure she knew what was going on, and that she had a way of escaping if she needed it.

It didn't take him long to reach the infirmary – he knew the way in his sleep by now, and the clock had just tolled its half hour by the time he was outside the doors. The warm July night remained uninterrupted, and as he made his way up the stairs and down the winding corridors Gajeel wondered a moment at how quiet it was. He picked up his pace until he found the right corridor, only to find the door to the infirmary open where it had been closed when he'd left her earlier, and he all but sprinted the last few steps, a foreign sense of dread pushing him forward until he reached the open doorway.

The empty bed stared back at him, the sheets rumpled though there was no sign of struggle – not an overturned pillow or a broken glass in sight, and the breakfast-tray sat innocently on the nightstand with an untouched bowl and a teacup. But there was no sign of the script-mage, or anyone else for that matter.

He took a step forward, anger warring with fear as he tried to come up with a reasonable explanation for her absence. He'd seen her boys in the square when he'd left, and there was no way they'd have made it back before him even at a full run. They couldn't have taken her away. Her scent lingered in the air, but it was weak; she'd been gone hours by the smell of it. He frowned as he considered the scent. There was something that wasn't quite right about it. It felt...different, somehow, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was.

"Gajeel."

The soft utterance had him whirling around, guard thrown up and an oath at the tip of his tongue because _how the hell had he not sensed her? _

Something moved in the shadows of the dark infirmary, and he could make out a shape as it stepped towards him. The shadows seemed to wrap around it, following it as it moved, but it wasn't the same type of magic the Sabertooth brat used. It was different, and he realized that he knew it. He remembered it from a night he'd much rather forget.

"_Levy_?"

The figure didn't answer, but stepped fully out of the shadows, small hands reaching up to pull a hood away from a familiar face.

A familiar face bearing scars he couldn't remember being so _severe_, the sight of them almost made him take a step back in surprise. The girl he'd left that morning had had a healing gash on her brow and some shallow cuts along her chin, but they were nothing compared to the ones marring the face of the girl standing before him now. The girl he'd left also hadn't been able to walk, but the one who stood before him didn't seem to have any problems, save maybe a small limp. And when he'd first started noticing the differences, more leaped out at him – her too long hair, and the way she held herself. The deep furrow between her brows, and the grim set to her mouth.

It was _Levy, _and it wasn't.

"The hell..."

She smiled at that, a wavering quirk of the lips, but it seemed hollow on her face – the viciously scarred face that kept drawing his gaze, but she didn't flinch at his blatant staring. Unlike the girl he'd left in the now empty infirmary bed, who'd felt self-conscious about her scars, the girl before him bore them with a set to her chin that only came from carrying deformities for an extended period of _time_–

And he realized then, who she was.

"Where is she?" he asked then, harsher than he'd intended, but she didn't so much as flinch. "Levy from this time. What d'you do with her?"

Her brows raised a little at the question – she seemed surprised, and for a moment he wondered where her mind had been. "She's safe," she said at length, and it was _her_ voice, alright – he knew the lilt of it as well as he knew his own. But if there had ever been doubt in his mind, her scent was evidence enough. And he could finally place it now, the minute differences that had thrown him off before. There was an earthy quality to it – her scent musty like she'd spent an extended time underground.

"The hell does that mean?"

She didn't move from where she stood. "It means she's _safe._ You don't need to know anything else." She added with a murmur, "Not yet."

"The fuck I don't!" he snapped, anger pushing its way past his confusion. But going by the stubborn tilt to her chin, he wasn't getting any answers out of her. He knew that tilt, and it meant she'd dug her heels in, and wouldn't budge to save her life. Whatever reason she'd had for whisking her past self away, it was important enough to make her stake her life on it.

"Yer alive," he said then, mind working to find a plausible reason for her presence, and his bookworm's absence. "You bein' here," he continued, brows furrowing as he tried to make the pieces _fit_ somehow. "Whatever happens tonight, you survive."

The thought quelled some of his agitation, but not much. The scars on her face painted a vivid picture of what she'd go through, though there was still no sign of the promised dragons. "The hell happened to you, Shorty?"

Whatever composure she'd been trying to keep, it wavered at the nickname, and she swallowed thickly. But he didn't make a move towards her, and she stayed where she was. "I'm sorry," she said then, voice thick, and breaking over the words. Then she laughed – a hollow, mirthless thing, and wiped at her eyes. "I thought I could do this."

"Do what?" He took a step forward then, but she held up a hand, a silent order for him to stay where he was. Her fingers trembled, and she tucked it back within her cloak against her side.

"I'm here to warn you," she said then, her voice regaining some of its earlier strength. "Did you find Lucy?" she asked. "Did she tell you? About– about the gate?"

He frowned. "Bunny girl?" He hadn't seen the blonde since the guards had carted her off with the Sabertooth mage.

Her face fell at the confusion she found on his face. "You haven't met her," she said, her expression stricken. "Then–" she sucked in a breath. "No. Maybe she's with the others. I don't–" she pressed a palm to her brow, and tried to breathe through her nose. When she drew it away her eyes were red with unshed tears, but her mouth was pressed in a grim line, and the expression on her face was one he'd never seen before. "Then I need to tell you. About Eclipse."

"The doomsday-door?"

She nodded. "It's too late to stop it – they'll open it, unless–" she cut herself off, and shook her head. "You need to close it, somehow, or it will be the end for you." She caught him looking at the scars, but didn't duck her head. "The guild won't survive. They'll destroy the world, and every human in their path."

"Dragons," he said then, realization dawning. "That what happened to you?" When she didn't answer, he pressed, "How d'ya survive?"

She looked at him then, and he went cold, because there was _defeat_ in that look that didn't belong on her face. He'd seen her at her weakest – had held her pinned against that tree, and she'd been defiant until she'd passed out in his arms. Even after Ivan she'd kept a stubborn grip on the part that marked her a Fairy Tail mage – the refusal to surrender that had landed them their victory in the tournament, that rested at the very core of the guild and every mage under its roof.

The expression looking back at him now was of a girl who'd given up long ago, who was fighting for scraps because her body hadn't caught up with her mind. And he knew, then, the reason for her look – the reason she kept him at arm's length, like she was afraid he'd get too close. The longing in her eyes, and the way her will had broken when he'd called her by the nickname she'd so long pretended not to like.

He wouldn't make it.

"I'll change it," she said then, reading his thoughts on his face, and now her voice was steel, and her eyes harder still. "I'll make it right, even if it's just this _one_ thing." She glanced at the clock on the wall, having just struck midnight. When she looked back at him, there was a bitter smile on her face. "Be careful," she said then, and there was a finality to her words that pushed him into action.

"Hey!" he snapped, taking a step forward as he reached for her. She was too late to draw away before he caught her hand, and she sucked in a startled breath as his fingers curled around her wrist. "The hell d'ya think yer going?!"

She looked up, and he was struck by the naked grief in her gaze. "I'm going to fight," she said, her scarred brow set in stubborn determination. "For this guild. I couldn't, before, but now I can." He was about to raise his voice to yell when she cut him off, "Have some faith in _me_, Gajeel," she said then, her smile wavering. "You made me big. _Let me show you_."

He wanted to protest – to tell her he didn't want her near any dragon, but she only shook her head, seeming to read his thoughts. "This is my choice. I'm _sorry_, Gajeel."

He didn't realize his grip had slackened before she pulled her wrist free of his fingers, and then she _vanished, _the shadows wrapping around her and pulling her back into the dark, out of his sight and masking even her scent. Panic surged within him.

"Oye, Lev–!"

But his words were swallowed by the ground heaving beneath him as a thundering roar shook the foundations of the earth.

* * *

><p>By the time he reached the square there were seven dragons laying siege to the city and Natsu was yelling from the skies.<p>

"Gajeel!" Fullbuster waved him over. "There's–"

"Yeah, I heard," he said, as he came to a stop beside the ice alchemist. The city square was in ruins, but he spotted other guild-members amongst the rubble and the smoke. There didn't seem to be any casualties yet, but it was hard to tell with the chaos raging around them. A great surge of wind from above drew his attention, and he watched a dragon engulfed in flames circle the city square, before an inhuman screech bounced between the remaining buildings, and he flinched at the noise.

"Did you find Levy?"

He glanced at Juvia's expectant face, momentarily distracted from the beasts, but what the hell was he supposed to say to that?

"Gajeel?" There was a familiar furrow to her brow that told him she'd caught on that something wasn't right, but before he could open his mouth to try to explain –_ Future Shorty came back through the gate with bunny girl, but I lost track of 'er before she could say anything and now she's fuck knows where_ – the ground shook again, and his attention was drawn by a great winged beast passing overhead, its massive bulk large enough to rival that of his old man. _Fuck, but that thing's huge. _

"I'll take care of it," he said then, not waiting to hear her reply as he set off after the creature. Salamander's instruction had been pretty clear – one dragon for each dragonslayer. He could look for Future Levy when he'd taken down the hulking beast.

Her words from earlier kept coming back to him, but he tried not to think about what they implied. Even if she'd gotten her past self out of the line of fire, she hadn't seemed set on staying put herself. And there had been something else behind her words – a promise of some sort, though she'd been strangely cryptic. _You damn well better stay out of this battle, Shorty! _

"Oye! Ya flying death-trap – get your fat, scaly ass over here!"

The dragon made a turn at his call, the beat of its wings strong enough to nearly knock him off his feet, but he held his ground as the other mages ran past him to get out of the way of the massive creature. Scales dark as the midnight sky glittered under the city lights as the drake descended to land on the rubble before him with enough force to make the ground heave upon impact.

"Who speaks?" it hissed – the unnatural rumble of its voice seeming to resonate in his veins, and Gajeel clenched his teeth against the gravel-like sound, the heavy thrum loud enough to give him a headache. "Do you know to whom you throw your petty insults, _pest_?"

Gajeel didn't miss a beat, "Some pretentious ass who sounds like he's from a different century. Oh, _wait._" He grinned, and the creature growled, rearing to attack.

"Filthy _human_–"

But then it stopped, jaw snapping shut and its multi-faceted eyes glinting as it leaned forward until the tip of its nose was a hairsbreadth away from Gajeel, but he didn't so much as flinch. His old man had driven the fear out of his system years ago, and he wasn't about to back down to this scaly excuse of a dragon."No – not human. You are something else. An unholy creature wrought by my kind's claws," it sneered. "Bred to_ slay_ us. Whose whelp are you, brat? What traitor plucked you from your kind to shape you in its own image?" it asked.

"_Wait_," it breathed then, and the growl was one of anger, now. "I know this feeling. You're _his – _that recluse. That _human sympathizer_!" It threw its head back, a snarl rolling off its forked tongue. "A _wyrm_ amongst our kind!" it roared. "You are Metalicana's filthy human nestling!"

"Oye," Gajeel cracked his knuckles. "That's my old man yer badmouthin', ya oversized lizard!"

The dragon reared, spreading its wings. "I am Abaddon, chief of the Ironhides, and I will not be belittled by that conspirator's _spawn_!" Then it threw it head back with a great roar, and Gajeel had to throw himself out of the way of the breath attack that followed. _Shit–! _

A massive claw came crashing down on the ground beside him, sending him sprawling into a pile of stone and rubble, but he jumped out of the way in time to dodge the following jab, lifting his defences to block the swing of a great tail that swept across the battlefield.

"Your pretty human hide cannot guard against my breath!"

_Damn it! _He ducked out of the way of another breath attack, and the drake laughed, the booming rumble taunting where it threw odd echoes against the ruins. "You may be iron, _nestling_, but my hide is stronger still." It swung its tail with enough force to turn one of the ruined houses on its head, and Gajeel swore under his breath as he barely avoided being hit by the falling debris. "My belly is a _forge_," it continued, the rasping voice like a harsh shriek amidst the din of the battle. "And I will bend your will like molten metal!"

_Fuck, but yer talkative fer a dragon. _Dropping down behind a stone block jutting out of the ground, he tried to catch his breath. There wasn't enough time to consider a plan of attack. He was acting on instinct, blocking and parrying, and for every attack he was pushed back. It was like a cat playing with an insect; all his continuous training hadn't prepared him in the least to fight a real dragon, and the helpless fury stuck to the back of his throat as a foreign panic seized in his chest. He couldn't die like this – if the dragonslayers were defeated the rest of the guild didn't stand a chance. The world didn't stand a chance. Shorty –_ his Shorty _– wherever she was, would be found and killed along with the rest of the mages.

Or she'd get away, and spend the rest of her life in fear, watchful under fiery skies as dragons tore the world asunder. He thought of the girl he'd seen in the infirmary, her sunken eyes and her disfigured face, and the potent grief in her expression that had told him he wasn't going to make it out of the battle alive.

And he wanted nothing more than to change it – to make it so she'd never have to suffer that loss. The guilt ate at him, for luring his way into her life, his presence like an ever-growing sickness claiming her for his own, wrapping soiled hands around her giving heart until he was etched into her very being. He'd hurt her before but never like this_, _nothing like the hurt he'd seen on her face – the kind that spoke of an ache rooted too deep for healing. He'd left her, and by doing so he'd doomed her.

He couldn't die. These couldn't be his last moments, his last _battle _lost to a dragon who'd spat on his old man's name. He'd come too damn far and fought too damn hard, for his guild and for _her_, to go down now and leave her at the mercy of Abbadon and the remaining dragons. _Fuck no. _

He felt an odd surge then, akin to a violent sense of deja-vu strong enough to make him lose his footing. And he _saw_ it – like an image reel before his eyes, but it was just a flash and then it was gone. He saw Abbadon rearing to attack, and he saw himself, too late to stop it, one arm raised in a feeble attempt at a block. He would die; the knowledge sat, heavy like a rock in his chest. It was the end predicted for him – the one he'd seen in her eyes in that dark infirmary. There was no way for him to stop it, for him to get out of the way in time.

And then he saw _her_, bursting forth from the shadows, shoving him out of the way with surprising strength. Her refusal was a roar from deep within her before the attack hit her head on, enveloping her whole, and when it tore her apart her scream pierced the night, the sound heralding their defeat. And rising above it, his own voice, a strangled _roar– _

–"_**LEVY!"**_

He came to with a start, drawing breath like one starved for air as he was plunged back into the present with enough force to rattle his head, and the momentum was enough to make him lose his balance. But the knowledge of what he'd seen was clear in his mind, and when Abbadon reared back to attack, Gajeel knew what he had to do.

And so when she threw herself into his path he was one step ahead of her, arm locking about her waist as he physically _threw_ her out of the way, before spinning on his heel to land a solid hit to Abaddon's flank. The great drake shrieked at the impact, scrambling back, long neck trashing, but Gajeel didn't spare him another glance as he made for the script-mage who lay sprawled at the foot of a pile of rubble. When he reached her he grabbed her arm, pulling her to her feet.

"The hell were you thinking!?"

She looked at him, dazed from her fall. "What–" she stopped, and shook her head, brows pulling down into a confused frown. "How did you know I was coming?"

Gajeel jabbed her forehead sharply, and she yelped, clapping her hands over the smarting spot. She glared up at him from beneath her hands, and he glared back. "You idiot!" he snapped, momentarily forgetting about the beast looming at their backs. "Are ya out of yer fucking mind?!"

She pursed her lips, and rubbed at her forehead. "I was trying to save you, you – you ungrateful oaf!" She drew a breath, and he was struck by the terror in her eyes, and the tears gathering at their corners. "I– you almost died! You were– that was the dragon who–" she hiccuped, and now the tears spilled over her cheeks. "It was supposed to kill you! How did you–"

But she wasn't given a chance at finishing her question, for there was a great resounding _crash _and a surge of blinding light, and he pushed her behind him as a shockwave exploded over the ravaged battleground. Her felt her tuck her face into his torn shirt, and he shielded his eyes against the glare and the gust of wind that pushed against them. When the dust settled a moment later there was a persistent roar in his ears, and he rubbed his eyes as he tried to see through the smoke, mind working to figure out what had happened.

"What–"

He heard the soft murmur from behind him, before she drew a startled breath, but before he could ask what was wrong there was a furious, thundering _roar_, and when he looked towards Abaddon the great dragon was disappearing before them, the massive dark bulk disintegrating in a ripple of light, smouldering like fire and vanishing like dust on the wind.

He could only stare in open-mouthed disbelief as the other dragons followed suit, vanishing one after another. "They're disappearing..."

"_We did it."_

The breathless exclamation made him start, and he looked back at Levy, only to do a double-take. Like the dragons around them she was glowing, the wispy ends of her hair bright like stardust, and she looked down at her hands with wide eyes. "We did it," she repeated, and there was _laughter_ in her voice now. Tears welled in her eyes only to run down her cheeks to dissolve like cinders, and when she fell to her knees he was there to catch her, hands gripping her waist to keep her upright as he kneeled down with her.

She looked up at him then, as though she'd forgotten he'd been there, and when she spoke her voice broke, "We...we did it, Gajeel!"

He smirked at that, and placed a hand on the crown of her head to tangle in her hair, his earlier anger at her recklessness forgotten. "Ya did good, Shorty."

A sob caught in her throat at that, and she clung to him, though her hands didn't seem to be able to hold on to his shirt anymore, and he swore under his breath when he realized she was drifting apart in his arms, her form disintegrating like the dragons. He glanced around frantically, to see if there wasn't some way to keep her from vanishing, but the mages gathered watched them with sombre expressions. A shout was at the tip of his tongue, for them to get their asses moving, to do something, _anything_, and fury swelled fierce and wild in his chest at their ineptitude. But she stopped him by cradling his face, drawing his gaze back to hers.

"It's okay," she whispered, eyes bright and still brimming with tears, but there was a smile on her face now, trembling but true. "_I'm_ okay." He couldn't feel her hands against his face anymore, though she was still cradling his jaw, and when she looked at him it was like she was seeing him for the first time in years. "I got what I came for," she said, brushing her thumbs over his cheeks. "I kept you safe."

He snorted at that, and tried to swallow past the fist-sized lump at the back of his throat. "Ya were about to do something stupid," he said. "If anything, I saved yer ass."

She laughed, tears spilling over her cheeks like drops of molten gold. "Maybe you did," she agreed. "You're always saving me."

He looked at her, then – the person she'd have become, if they'd failed to stop the dragons. He traced the jagged lines of her scars with his eyes, the vivid evidence of their failure. His failure. "Sorry," he said gruffly, unable to better plead her forgiveness, but she shook her head.

"Don't be sorry," she said. "I'm not. Be angry or sad, or anything else, just...don't be sorry. Not for _this._" She smiled then. "You're the best thing that's happened to me, Gajeel Redfox. Don't you forget that."

She was becoming increasingly more transparent, until his hands were grasping at air, and she smiled at his fumbling. "Don't worry. I'm just going back to where I belong," she said, as though he was the one who needed reassurance – as though she wasn't the one turning to dust before his eyes. "This time isn't mine to live. And you're not mine to keep. Not here."

She grinned then, the gesture tugging at the grotesque scars. "I love you," she murmured, and he could see through her now – her skin translucent in the dark. "Both past and present." And then she leaned up to touch her mouth against his, but he couldn't feel the soft brush of her lips, or the way she had of pressing her nose against his. There were no wild curls for him to tangle his fingers, and his hands passed through the phantom strands like air.

And then she was dissolving into golden light, slipping through his numb fingers, and her smile was the last thing he saw before she was gone. Her parting words were a sigh, almost lost in the din of the victory raging around him–

"_I'll find you again. I promise." _

–and he was left in the midst of the ruined city square, idle hands grasping for nothing.

* * *

><p>He caught her scent before anything else.<p>

Then came the soft tread of her footsteps behind him – hesitant at first but steadily gaining speed, and when he turned she was sprinting towards him through the grass, his name a hoarse invocation on her lips, and when she barrelled into him it was with enough force to nearly knock him off his feet. Her arms went about his neck, hands grasping, tugging, _pressing_ against his shoulders and her voice was a steady babble of _are you real are you real __**are you real. **_

He grinned into the hollow of her neck, the scent of her hair filling his nose, and when she clutched at his shirt, great heaving sobs shaking her frame, Gajeel _laughed_. He laughed like he hadn't in years, a foreign levity surging through his veins and to the marrow of his bones as he spun her round and round, before hoisting her up into the air. The action drew a startled yelp from her lips, but she grinned down at him from her perch, her dark eyes wet with tears but crinkling with laughter, and her smile as wide as the ever-bending sky stretching blue and unblemished above the golden fields beneath them.

He traced the lines of her face with his eyes, smooth and unmarred, and his grin was from his heart, the weight on his shoulders lifted and the shadows in his mind chased back by the sight of her after so long. He'd nearly forgotten the shade of her hair, the slope of her nose and the feel of her forgiveness, warm like the eternal sun shining down from a sky free of death and fire. Hands gripping her hips, he pressed his nose into the soft mound of her stomach, his voice a rumble that had her trembling hands tangling in his hair.

"Took your time, Shorty_._"

Her answering laughter was his redemption, and his heart was filled with the sun.

* * *

><p>AN: The final image is very much inspired by an artwork of Rusky's (the lovely <strong>rboz<strong> on tumblr), with Gajeel and Levy embracing after what looks like a rough battle. She's a master when it comes to these two, and this piece in particular is my personal favourite amongst her gorgeous work. Go have a look! (And if it wasn't clear from the context, that last bit is Future Levy reuniting with Future Gajeel, on the golden fields Future Lucy went to).

BUT WAIT. We're not done yet! Stay tuned for the epilogue, hopefully without too much of a delay.


	17. eyes on the future

AN: IT'S FINISHED! Oh _man_, it's been one hell of a ride with this thing. Thank you so much for sticking with me, and for being so wonderfully patient through my ups and downs and my writer's block. I can only hope you enjoy the epilogue, and that you've had a good read overall!

Disclaimer: Fairy Tail and its characters belong to Hiro Mashima; I own absolutely nothing. Cover image by Rae.

* * *

><p><strong>part XVII.<strong>

"Hey! HEY_! ANYONE!?"_

No answer met her shouts, and she slammed a fist against the unyielding wood, wincing as pain raced up her arm.

With an irritated breath, Levy slid down to sit with her back against the closed door. She'd removed the rune spells her future self had put on the house and all but dragged herself from the bedroom, but the actual honest-to-goodness _lock_ on the door wouldn't budge without a key.

The ground had stopped shaking some time ago, and from what she could tell from the cold light spilling in through the windows, dawn had to be approaching. But no one had come to look for her yet, and she felt sick just thinking about what the others were doing. It was clear that her future self had been telling the truth, hard to believe as that had been. From the great, heaving rumbles and the haunting shrieks she could still hear if she closed her eyes, there had been dragons, and more than one. But by the sudden, near deafening _quiet_ that had followed, not to mention the fact that she was still alive and the town was still standing, she could only assume they'd defeated them.

But who had fallen in the process?

_It better not have been you, you stupid, stubborn man!_ But no matter how much she tried to stay angry, because anger was so, so much more preferable to the alternative, the feeling of crippling ineptitude kept crawling back, and it was all she could do to force down the lump in her throat. Her future self had said Gajeel hadn't made it in her time, but Levy was still alive and no one had died for her sake. Did that mean she'd saved him? Or had tampering with the past only ended in more people dying?

Or was it like in the stories, where no matter how great the efforts, the end result would always be the same?

Her hands shook, and she tucked them against her stomach to keep them still. Someone would find her soon – they had to. They couldn't all just be _gone_. Not Fairy Tail; it just wasn't possible

But the haunted expression on her own self's face was an unavoidable reminder that it had happened, once. It was entirely possible, though it hurt to even think about it. With everything she'd gone through since the start of the games, was this to be the final chapter? To survive, but at the cost of everyone she held dear? Jet and Droy...Lucy. Lily.

_Gajeel._

She lost track of how long she sat there, dozing against the locked door, but it had to have been a good while, because when a sudden rattling of the door-handle jolted her awake, the room was aglow with light. And she'd barely had time to register the fact that there was someone on the other side of the door, when she was almost knocked over as a weight crashed against it, and she just barely managed to crawl out of the way in time for the entire thing to come hurtling inwards to slam against the wall, nearly tearing the hinges off in the process.

And then _he_ was there, looming large and dark and altogether menacing with the sunlight at his back, covered in bandages with his clothes torn and tattered and looking for all the world like he'd just dragged himself through the mud and then taken a tumble down a steep cliff. But what drew her gaze and held it was the wild, tormented look in his eyes – like he wasn't actually _seeing_ anything.

But she didn't have time to so much as open her mouth, her happiness at the tip of her tongue, before he was crouching before her and had pulled her into an embrace so rough all the air was forcibly shoved out of her lungs.

"Gaj–!" she wheezed, but stopped when she felt his fingers skim over her shoulders, and her arms, as though checking for injuries. Which was odd, considering the fact that she'd been locked inside the house all along and obviously didn't have any more than the ones she was already recovering from. He released her enough for her to draw back, and when she found his eyes now the panicked frenzy was gone, but it had been replaced by something she couldn't decipher.

His palm against her face startled her; his skin was flushed warm, and his knuckles covered in strips of bandages he didn't seem to have been very careful in keeping intact. His fingers skimmed along the still-healing scar on her brow, and her cheeks, the pads pressing into her skin.

Her look softened. "Are you okay?"

He didn't respond, and surprised her by drawing her close again, in as un-Gajeel an action as she'd ever known. And if her surprise had turned her shoulders rigid, the press of his nose into the hollow of her throat loosened them up, until she sagged a boneless heap against him there on the floor.

She didn't ask if he wanted to talk about it, because knowing him, he wouldn't want to. Not yet, anyway. Maybe with some subtle prodding she'd lure a word or two out of him, but Levy was well-versed in the ways of his person, and knew he needed time to accept things for himself before he had any inclination of speaking to anyone else. His wasn't a heart you forcibly made yourself comfortable in – it took gentle hands and an open mind, and more patience than most cared to give. And she'd give him his space and his silence, for the subtle tightening of his fingers around her midsection spoke volumes in their mute desperation.

So despite all the questions pressing at her mind, Levy simply asked, "Casualties?"

His breath was like a laugh against her skin, but devoid of all humour. "None of ours," he rumbled, and her happiness welled, an unrestrained force within her, and then _she_ was laughing, a near hysterical sound, until tears filled her eyes and her lungs hurt. And when she drew back he let her, but his grip lingered, the tips of his fingers hovering in that awkward way of a man not entirely used to hugging and the space that existed between _drawing in_ and _letting go._

She grinned, tears spilling over to trail along her cheek and jaw, and when she drew her next breath the lump in her throat was gone. And her unbridled happiness seemed to loosen something in his severe expression, for the corner of his mouth drew upwards a fraction. He glanced at the room around her then, as though just now realizing where they were.

Levy wiped at her eyes. "I find pretty good hiding places, huh?" But the joke felt hollow even to her own ears.

He didn't respond, and so she tried again. "Did you meet her..._me_, I mean?"

His nod was a heavy thing, carrying more implications than his gruff response was willing to answer. "Yeah."

She swallowed thickly. "Will you tell me about it?"

He shook his head. "Not today."

She nodded. "That's okay." She gripped the tattered hem of his shirt. "Take me back?"

He nodded, and wordlessly shifted to slip his arm around her back and below her legs, before he lifted her up. Under other circumstances she would have blushed at the close contact, but there was a sombre edge to his being, drumming a dismal tune along his every word and gesture, and it did little but make her heart ache. Something had happened, and it had put its mark on him. The ever curious part of her that craved answers rebelled at his stubborn silence, but she resolutely kept her mouth shut. He'd tell her. Not today, but someday, maybe, when his wounds weren't naked in his eyes and he didn't carry his invisible burden quite so openly.

She closed her eyes as he carried her out of the house, allowing her head to rest against his shoulder. It was a long walk back to the centre of the city, from what she remembered – her future self had made sure to put her as far away from the battle as she could, to protect her. Although now that it was all over, but Levy felt anything but unaffected.

"Levy."

She opened her eyes at the sound of her name, and angled her head so she could look at him. He wasn't looking at her, though, and for a long time it seemed like he wasn't going to continue.

Then, "Glad yer alright."

She smiled into his neck, ear pressed against his skin where his pulse leaped, steady and sure between them. She drew her strength from the sound. There was a universe of meaning behind that remark; some things she would probably never know, and others she would know with time. But for the moment, it was what he was able to give, and she'd take it – she'd take it and keep it close, hoard it for all its worth, one of these small treasures he gave so rarely but that were worth a lifetime of confessions from any other person.

"Yeah," she answered simply, because it was that simple, when it all came down to it. She was alive, and he was alive, and in their new and hard-earned peace, that was _enough_.

* * *

><p>It took well over a week of rest for any of them to be well enough to travel, and by the time they were all set to leave for Magnolia Levy's feet had healed enough to have the casts removed, though she'd had a pair of crutches shoved into her hands by Jet and Droy, who'd also promptly refused to listen to her protests. Gajeel had been stubbornly unhelpful, too, for once siding with her boys, and had told her he'd carry her ass all the way back if she didn't use them. And not in what he'd called 'a pansy assed, gentlemanly way' so if she wanted her underwear on display she was more than welcome to opt out of the crutches. It had taken her hours of wheedling to get them to finally relent, and allow her to walk by her own strength, if only for short stretches at a time.<p>

It had been a relief to find out there hadn't been any major casualties, though there were enough injured to keep Levy company in the infirmary. But the collective mood had lifted considerably by their victory, both in the tournament and over the dragons. She'd listened to the stories about the events of the last day – the great battle and the destruction of the portal.

Of her future self she heard little, but a few bits and pieces from reluctant guild-members who'd been present when she'd vanished. But from the little she did hear, she resolved not to pester Gajeel about it more than she already had. His silence made more sense after she'd heard about what had happened – she didn't think she'd want to talk about it if their roles had been reversed, and she'd had to watch him disintegrate right before her eyes.

"Levy?"

She'd been in the process of buttoning up her shirt, and looked up to find Lucy in the doorway. "Hey. You all set to go?"

The blonde lifted her duffel. "All packed." She stepped inside, depositing the bag on the floor. "How are you holding up?" She glanced at Levy's feet, which had taken the longest to heal, even with Wendy's efforts. Her brows drew together. "Are you sure you're ready to go home today? I could stay behind, if you wanted me to. We can leave later this week, or the next."

Levy snorted. "Thanks, but if I have to spend another day in this bed I think I might cry."

The stellar mage grinned. "Just checking." She came to sit on the bed, stretching her legs out as she fell back against the mattress with an explosive breath. "Hard to think it's just been a few weeks, huh?"

Levy shook her head. "You're telling me."

A gentle sort of quiet settled between them, as Levy finished buttoning her shirt, her fingers still a little stiff and awkward from lack of use. There were unspoken things in the silence; the subject of their future selves had gone mostly untouched in the week that had followed the dragons' defeat, though it could only be ignored for so long. At least to Levy, who'd not been present during the battle and the destruction of the Eclipse. It was odd – it was them, but at the same time it wasn't. It was two different people, who'd lived their lives and made their choices. Now, with the portal gone and their future safe, Levy didn't know if they'd eventually turn into those people. Circumstances being what they were, she probably wouldn't.

"Hey, Lu?"

The stellar mage cracked one eye open, though Levy wasn't looking at her, but rather at the scars in the heart of her palms. "What do you think happened to them? To our future selves."

Lucy was silent a long moment, gazed fixed on the ceiling. Then, "I think about her a lot," she confessed. "What she must have gone through – what they _both_ must have gone through." She shook her head. "I don't know what happened to them. Maybe they just...ceased to exist? Maybe that's for the best. I don't know where else they would have gone."

Levy curled her fingers together, hands pressing into fists as she thought about the girl who'd gotten her to safety – who'd taken it upon herself to change the course of the future, at the cost of her own life – her whole existence. Sitting there on the infirmary bed, safe in her own time, she wondered where she'd found the courage. Now, in the tranquil, late midday silence with her best friend beside her, she couldn't imagine what it must have taken for a person to make those kind of choices. To go back, and to gamble everything she had left on the minuscule chance that she could change something for her former self. On the one hand, she envied her a little bit – Future Levy. To have that kind of strength...that kind of conviction...

But then she remembered the world she'd come from – the existence that had born and nurtured that strength, hard-earned as it must have been. And she didn't feel envy, anymore, but a deep hurt, because what kind of life must it have been for her to decide to risk everything by going back?

"If they did go somewhere...I wonder if they found each other," Lucy said then, after a lull. She shifted her gaze to meet Levy's. "Even if they didn't go anywhere at all...I hope they're together, in...spirit or whatever you'd call it."

Levy smiled. "I hope so, too." Loosening her clenched fingers, she reached out to grasp Lucy's. Her friend's guild-emblem peeked up from beneath her fingers, and she traced it with the pad of her thumb. "I don't know what I'd do without you." She offered a mock-glare. "You get into way too much trouble."

The stellar mage turned her palm upwards, and gripped her fingers back. "Hey, you're one to talk," she retorted, her voice thick despite her attempted humour. "Do you know how worried you've had us all?" After another, heavy pause, she added, "You know, I bet it was your idea."

Levy frowned, and Lucy tightened her grip. "Going back in time. I bet it was your idea. It just feels like something you would suggest."

Levy choked on a laugh. "_Me_? What in the world makes you say that–"

"You don't give yourself nearly enough credit, you know," Lucy interrupted her. "There's a _reason_ you were nominated for S-class, Lev. You're stronger than you think. And," she drew a breath. "I think that...in the event that something should happen, like an invasion of dragons...I think you'd realize just how strong."

Levy pressed her lips together. "I'd rather discover it some other way," she noted, a little dryly.

Lucy snorted. "You and me both." She smiled. "Well, we've got the future ahead of us now. Nothing will pan out the way it did." She waved a hand about her face. "It's a clean slate...isn't that what they say?"

"Looks like I'm going to have to find that strength some other way, then," Levy hummed.

Lucy grinned. "Looks like."

"I wonder what's in store next."

The stellar mage threw her a sly look. "I don't know about me, but for _you_ I'm guessing it involves a certain metal-studded recluse." She winked. "Of course, there are worse prospects. And now that you're no longer _bedridden_..." she trailed off, patting the mattress suggestively, "There are better beds than this one waiting."

"Luce!" Levy gave her a shove, but Lucy only laughed, even as she had to grip the mattress to keep from falling off the bed. "God, but you're lewd."

"Oh come _on_, don't tell me the thought didn't cross your mind when he walked around in that ridiculous shirtless get-up like was no-one's business." She snorted. "It's probably a dragon trait – don't birds do something like that? Preen their feathers to attract partners?"

A bark of laughter spilled from her lips, sudden and unbidden like her mirth. "You want me to ask him if that's what he's doing? Making himself pretty for me?"

"I think you'd make him swallow his tongue if you did that." Lucy was silent a moment. Then, "I'll _pay_ you to– and hey, what do you know, here's your chance!"

Levy looked towards the doorway in time to see the dragonslayer in question walk in, his own bag slung over one shoulder. He took in the sight of the two of them, and the silence that had suddenly descended. His brows drew together. "What?"

Lucy grinned. "Nothing!" she chirped as she jumped off the bed, before striding forward to grab her duffel. "We were just talking, but I'm sensing this is my cue to leave." She threw Levy a meaningful look as she made for the door. "Oh, by the way, your hair is looking great today, Gajeel. _Very_ smooth." She offered Levy. "Gonna make a girl envious one of these days."

He glared at her, his expression uncomprehending, then cut a look towards Levy, who was having a hard time holding her laughter in. "I leave ya alone five minutes, and there's a goddamn mutiny. The hell did I miss?"

Levy shook her head. "Birds," she said, with a very serious look. "We were talking about...birds."

He held her gaze for a breath, then shook his head. "Not gonna ask." He looked at the stellar mage. "I came to tell ya the train leaves in thirty minutes."

"Noted. Do you want us to wait for you?"

He looked at Levy, who nodded. "Yeah. We'll be down in two."

Lucy returned the nod, before she made for the door, throwing a good-natured but borderline suggestive 'don't take too long!' over her shoulder that made Levy blush all the way to the roots of her hair.

And of course Gajeel took notice. "The hell's the matter with you? You runnin' a fever or something?"

She shook her head. "Please don't ask."

He didn't, and she watched him where he stood, loitering awkwardly as though he couldn't decide whether to keep standing or to take a seat. Then, after a moment of indecision, he seemed to make up his mind, but he didn't come to sit beside her. Instead he came to kneel on the floor in front of the bed, one hand reaching up to grasp her ankle, but before she could ask what he was doing, he was sliding her boot in place. Levy watched him wordlessly, wide gaze softening as he did the laces on one boot, before moving to the other.

When he was done, he didn't move away immediately, but kept her ankle between his hands, the silence stretching between them soft and relaxed as the slowly setting sun cast a glimmering play of light across the floorboards, to bounce off the metal studs on his nose.

"You know...I _can_ tie my own boots."

He snorted, but didn't meet her eyes. "That supposed to be a thank-you?" He released her leg then, and she felt the loss of warmth like a jolt, but this time he moved to sit on the bed beside her, and so she didn't complain. After the battle with the dragons he'd kept a tentative distance between them, though his injuries had been worse than hers this time. But she hadn't pushed, and now that he made to close the gap again, however hesitantly, Levy felt her relief in all its staggering magnitude.

She ducked her head to hide her sudden smile, and some of her hair fell out from behind her ear – the one part that was long enough to be a bother. The rest of it was still too short to do much but stick up at odd angles; it was slow in growing, and it all looked rather lopsided.

His hand was on her arm then, and she looked down, only to find a familiar scrap of fabric in the cup of his palm.

Levy blinked, and reached for the strip with shaking fingers. "Is this–?"

He didn't answer, and she held it out before her, smoothing the fabric down. "My headband," she heard herself say, though she felt detached, somehow, from what she was seeing. Behind her eyes she could so clearly remember the image – the bright colours dyed brown with her own blood, falling down from her limp form to land against the ground. It was one of the last things she remembered before she'd lost consciousness. That, and the bizarre thought that she'd never get the stains out of it if she didn't hurry.

She hadn't questioned its absence – hadn't honestly given it a thought, in the days that had followed her recovery. Her hair had been shorn, and was too short in places for her to need a headband for anything other than decoration. But it was in her hands now, the soft fabric slipping between her fingers. The rosette was intact, if just a little different than what she remembered.

She looked up at Gajeel, a question at the tip of her tongue, but he beat her to it. "Bunny girl," he said simply.

Levy closed her mouth, fingers closing around the headband. "She fixed it."

He nodded. Then, "Ya don't have ta use it if ya don't want to. Just...thought you should know I had it."

She didn't hesitate, and before the words were off his tongue she'd tied the headband in place, tucking any errants locks beneath the fabric to keep them away from her face. She watched his gaze flicker to her forehead, and the scar that sundered the once-smooth skin of her brow. With the headband keeping what little hair she still had fully away from her face, there was no hiding it; she might as well be intentionally displaying it for the world to see.

She grinned. "Good as new," she declared with a tilt of her head, and his eyes flickered back to hers.

And then he _smiled, _and before she had a chance to be properly surprised, he'd reached out to adjust it ever so slightly, fingers lingering by her temple before he pulled his hand back. "Nah. 's _better._"

Her eyes widened. Time stood still, just for a breath, like an inhale before a plunge into cold waters – a pocket between _do_ and _don't_ where anything could happen. It was a teetering sensation, make or break, which was the way with them, and the way it had been since they'd first met. Push then pull, and then push some more until one of them toppled. Theirs was a trust built slowly and carefully through trial and error; she'd refused to let him walk away once, and when she'd been at her lowest, he'd stubbornly remained by her side. In the stories, it was a self-evident truth that they'd stick together through thick and thin, but Levy had known a reality quite different, and didn't expect fairy tales anymore. The real thing took work, sweat and tears and sacrifice, and in the end you might still be standing alone, despite all your efforts.

It was a shiver of anticipation along the skin of her arms, the thought that he might yet draw away completely – that he might rise and leave without looking back, deciding that it wasn't worth it, or that _he_ was unworthy.

But he didn't rise to leave, and when he instead met her halfway her heart sprang like a wild thing in her chest, and by the next breath she'd shifted closer, her fingers reaching for his jaw with none of her earlier restraint. And when she moved he followed the gentle pull of her hands, her fingers ensnared in the mass of his hair until she was close enough to gently press her mouth against his.

It was a slow thing – a gentle testing of still waters previously ravaged by currents. His hands cupped her shoulders, a care to his movements so at odds with his character, and she wanted to to press her hands over his, to pound the notion into his skull that she wasn't going to turn to dust if he applied too much pressure. She craned her neck, and found his hand slide up to cradle the back of her head, fingers brushing against the tips of the short-cropped hair he'd once been able to tangle them in. And she pushed ever closer, spurred now by his lingering reluctance. She down on his lower lip, _hard_, and couldn't help the laugh that spilled out at the oath that followed.

He glared, but her glee was a fierce thing, and not to be deterred. "You're not running," she said then, a little breathlessly.

And by the raised brow that met her, with enough surprise to make him take notice. "D'you think I would? Bail when we'd finally made things right?"

She shifted her gaze, avoiding his. "You've been a little distant, since the battle." She shrugged, feeling suddenly exposed. "I didn't know what you were thinking."

He didn't hesitate, "I ain't going anywhere," he declared gruffly. "I was actually plannin' on sticking around fer a while...If that's okay with you."

It was at once a question, and it wasn't. But his guard was down, she realized. He'd intentionally left himself wide open, to rejection or acceptance – whichever she decided on.

She tried not to beam _too_ much. "It's more than _okay_, Gajeel."

His mouth quirked, just a hint, so quick she thought she might have imagined it. But then a full-blown smile curved along his face, a grin the likes of which she hadn't seen since before the battle. He rose to his feet. "Ya ready ta go?"

She nodded as she slid off the bed, idly smoothing her hands down her shirt over her stomach, a gesture that had become almost second-nature, as though she needed confirmation that the scar was still there. She wore only light dressings now; the bulk of the bandages she'd used to wear was gone, and as she pressed her hands against it she was surprised at the sensation. It was a dull, lingering ache – like an old bruise, but she found that she felt none of her earlier dread that usually accompanied it. It might as well have been just any old bruise, and not the brand it had once been, the one she still saw if she closed her eyes.

She pressed her fingers against it once more, experimentally. But still there was no fear to accompany the ache, and she examined the strange new detachment with surprise.

Although perhaps it wasn't so strange. In the week she'd spent recuperating with the others she'd thought a lot about her future self – the scars on her face had been much more vivid than any Levy bore now – and the world in which she'd had to overcome them. She'd had no soft bed, and no guild of friends around her to help her recover. She'd had Lucy, and yet she'd continued to push forward, even if the world as she'd known it had long since ended.

Her own scars didn't feel any less gruesome in comparison, but overcoming them seemed feasible now, where she'd once thought she'd never move past them; when she'd lain in bed, unable to imagine an existence where she could look at herself in the mirror.

She let her hands fall to her sides, and when she looked at Gajeel next the scar was a fickle thought amidst the dawning realization that they were going home _together_, after everything. After Raven Tail and Ivan, time paradoxes, future selves and invading dragons – they'd made it through, not wholly unscathed, but together. It was more than her future self had had, and it was everything she'd wanted.

And Levy wasn't about to squander that gift with insecurities.

Walking up to him where he lingered in the doorway, she rose to the tips of her toes, and remembering his smile from earlier, she pressed her lips against the corner of his mouth. It was a small thing – a gesture so at odds with the sheer amount of feeling that lay behind it, but she hoped it conveyed it all the same.

When she drew back, her own smile was quick as the heart in her chest, leaping a joyous dance against her ribcage. "Love you," she murmured, and the words were light as air and _so easy_ now, falling from her heart and her lips without restraint, her private shadows only vague memories in the brightness of her soul. And she would see his own darkness chased off for good if it took her a lifetime, because if she'd been broken and mended whole, then so could he. She loved and she loved _fiercely_, the feeling bright and warm in her breast, and even Ivan and the all-encompassing daylight-darkness of an eclipse hadn't managed to snuff it out. She'd conquer his shadows, like she'd conquered her own.

She reached out a hand, scarred palm facing upwards – her dignity a furious thing in place of her former shame. "Let's go _home._"

He grinned, a flash of teeth in the midday sun. "Yeah." Then he surprised her by throwing an arm around her shoulders, for once unmindful of her injuries. And for once he didn't mention the crutches leaning against the foot of the bed.

The gesture made her smile, and she leaned her weight into his side, tucking her face against his chest as they walked out of the infirmary. His shadow stretched, long and sinuous before them, but it seemed less intimidating, somehow, with hers alongside it – like an odd extension of his own, blending in and out of one another as they walked with the sun at their backs.

The rest of the guild were gathered outside, some lounging with their luggage at their feet, while others were saying their good-byes to members of the other guilds who'd shown up to see them off. Levy spotted Lily and Wendy on the front steps, and the littlest dragonslayer waved as they made their way outside. Coming in sight of the others, she felt Gajeel's arm slip from around her shoulders, to fall against his side. She tried not to feel disappointed, and kept her smile in place. _Baby steps, Lev. One at a time. _

Natsu jumped up from his seat at their approach. "Took you long enough! C'mon, or we'll miss the train!"

Lucy rolled her eyes as she rose to follow. "Why are you so eager? You know what's waiting for you – hours of motion sickness. In _my_ _lap._"

Gajeel groaned. "I'd forgotten 'bout that."

"It's going to be good _not_ being the invalid anymore," Levy said, and laughed when he turned to her with a glare. "Don't worry, you can rest your head in _my_ lap, if you want," she teased. "I promise not to laugh. Much_._"

He only grumbled, but didn't decline her offer, and Levy turned to Lucy with a smile. "So. To the next adventure?"

Lucy snorted. "You know, I could do with a holiday, after this."

"Holiday adventure!" Natsu announced. "Let's go back to the beach!"

Lucy hooked a finger into his scarf, to keep him from falling over in his own excitement. "We were just there, you dolt. I think home is holiday enough."

He laughed. "Whatever you say, Luce."

Levy's smile grew as she watched their conversation grow more and more animated, and as other guild-members started butting in to add their two cents, which prompted peals of laughter that rose in volume as they began their trek towards the train station.

A brush against her hand startled her, and she looked down to see him take hold of it, fingers wrapping hesitantly around hers. When she glanced up, Gajeel was looking straight ahead, pointedly avoiding her gaze, but her joy was such that she couldn't have schooled her expression if she'd wanted to.

Winding her fingers with his, Levy gripped them tightly as they followed after their companions through the city streets. The sound of their talk and laughter trailed in their wake – their departure as boisterous as their arrival, and around them the slowly setting sun threw its final brilliance across the cobbled streets, painting the stones golden-yellow and banishing the lingering dark to remote corners. And Levy held onto the hand caught in hers, the warmth of his grip like a tether pulling her down the path before them...

...and into the future ahead, bright and new and _theirs, _to claim and to live to their hearts' content.

_fin._

* * *

><p>AN: If you've made it this far, be you a regular or a new reader, I hope you've enjoyed the ride! This story was born from a simple wish to see more interaction between these two in this arc, and along the way it got a life of its own, though I wanted to keep the core of the GMG storyline intact despite the changes, which I hope I've managed. It's not your usual learning-how-to-make-it-work story, but then these two aren't just any couple. And though they've been through their fair share of obstacles, what appeals so much to me is their growth, and the fact that they've managed to become so close <em>despite<em> their past. It's not always easy, but in the end, it is so, _so_ worth it.


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